Recollection
by lambentLodestar
Summary: Self-insert. A woman of unknown origins appears, with no apparent memory of her past life. However, there remain traces– a strange wit, her anxiety, and a hidden knowledge which could save the world. Did I mention she's the tactician and has no actual gift for tactics? And this is definitely not normal/casual mode? If she's not careful... Rated T because swearing. DISCONTINUED.
1. Without

**Author's notes: And here we have a somewhat run-of-the-mill self-insert fic. I'm sorry, I tried very hard to hold off on writing it, but waaaaaay before I even thought of Fellblood Son, I gave in to the urge to write a this. It'll be much more interesting than my first draft was, though. Fellblood Son will serve as a prequel of sorts to this.**

**Guess what? These chapters are long! YAY! And they're in first person, which is actually hard to write well. I might do little third-person blurbs every now and then, as a break. (Incidentally, my rough draft chapter of Recollection started off in third, then I accidentally switched to first. WHOOPS.)**

**Enjoy, if self-insert fics are your thing. :D**

Mm... Sunlight. It's warm, and that wind is rather chilly. Good thing this coat is so thick. And I have the hood up, so the light's not disturbing my rest. All is warm– save the occasional chill if the wind pierces my coat– and comfortable. So familiar.

Unlike the air. I don't mean that in a bad way– I've never smelled such wonderfully clear air. So much better than... Wherever I was before, I guess. It's still a chilly air, though, cooling my lungs with every inhale. But that's okay. I need something to keep me cool.

It's so nice. The wind in the grass, the warm red of sunlight filtering through my cowl and closed eyelids, and the soft earth beneath me. Hey, I detect footstops.

Sigh. I wonder who it is? I hope they're nice.

"Hey, brother! Over here! There's someone on the ground!" It's a young girl's voice. I've never heard it before. Or, well, maybe I have. My mind's a bit fuzzy right now.

Well, fuzzy except for one very clear vision, still fresh in my mind. That dream. Ugh, that terrible dream. I still feel like I've been lanced in the gut, frankly. That was _horrible._

I hear more footsteps in the grass. There's a light bounce from here to there which I assume is the girl, and a heavier set, accompanied by clinking. Armor? Oh, dear.

"Who is it? Let me see." That voice is familiar– it hits me like a ton of bricks when I realize it's from my dream. Sounds like a deep baritone, and for some reason there's this ill feeling in my gut, and it strikes me that foreboding is a feeling I get a lot. The voice– the name I attach to it is "Chrom"– interrupts my thoughts. "A woman? Gods, I hope nothing bad happened..." I hear another set of footsteps, even heavier than the set I assume is Chrom, a little ways away, but no speech to go with it.

"Well, we have to do something!" The girl says.

I should probably get up about now.

"What do you propose we do?" Chrom asks her, calmly.

"I don't know!" How old is this girl? At the same time that I wonder this, I crack open my sleep-crusted eyelids. I get an eyeful of a man I definitely recognize as Chrom, with that blue hair and shoulder mark, and I also get a look at the girl, whose hair is tied into these _crazy_ blonde pigtails, and she's wearing a hat embellished with buttons. They notice my open eyes and turn to me with what I assume are sighs of relief.

I shall call the girl Buttons, I think.

"I see you're awake now," Chrom says. I nod my head and wow when did I get this tired? Was I just lethargic this whole time?

"Hey there!" the girl chirps cheerfully. Owww, not so loud...

"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," Chrom says. But I just woke up here, and it's niiiiiiice... Besides, don't criticize me. "Give me your hand," he says, offering his own.

_If you insist_, I think, taking it. He pulls me up, surprising me– though I really shouldn't be– with his strength. I feel like my arm might fall off. He's right in my face now and this is really awkward. With said awkwardness registering itself in my movements, I take a step back, and justify it with a good (though unnecessary) _stretch_. Ahh. That felt good.

To business. I put my arms down. I wonder what I should do or say; I doubt I've been very good at talking to people I've just met. I eye him carefully; I find I'm loathe to trust strangers. But I should still be polite. It occurs to me to thank him, but apart from helping me up– which I totally could've done myself– he's not done much for me.

"Are you all right?" He asks me. Something I can act on!

"Yeah, thanks, Chrom." Oops, there went that unnecessary thanks. Oh, well, you're supposed to say thanks when someone asks how you're doing. Wait, how do I know his name if I don't know this guy? I slip into a facade, pretending to be a bit cheerier than I actually am. I mean, yeah, I'm feeling an overall positive feeling, apart from the anxiety in my gut, but I'm messing with my face and posture so that I look... You know what? Chrom's talking.

"... my name?"

"Uh, would you repeat that? Sorry, I just kinda... drifted off there." I mentally wince and think, _apparent IQ -10_.

"How do you know my name? I don't think I've met you before." He looks slightly annoyed, probably at my lapse in attention, and I doubt my "answer" is any comfort.

"I don't know. It just sort of popped in my head. I'm, uh, not really sure of much right now. Where _am_ I, anyways? Other than in a warm field, that is."

"That's an odd answer. What's your name?" He seems to be thinking, probably thinking as hard as I am right now. Yeah, I bet he's confused about all this, maybe more so than I. Wait, he just asked me a question, but...

"Ummm... I, uh... My name is... Crap. I can't think of it. Why won't I...?" I really hope my face is selling this; I feel I'm in huge trouble right now. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap! "I should know this!"

"Calm down. It's no good fussing over it." Okay, sure. Rrrr!

"Hey, I've heard of this!" Pipes the gir– Buttons. "It's called amnesia!"

That! Yes, that! My face lights up like a flame. It's gotta be that.

"It's called a load of pegasus dung," enters a third voice. I remember that there was a third set of footsteps...

So who is this douchebag? I see him– yeah, it's a guy, really deep voice– a ways behind these two and look him over before he speaks up, brown hair and blue armor and–

"We're to believe you remember milord's name, but not your own?" Ugh, he is NOT HELPING this feeling in my gut! I immediately brand him a jerk.

Wait, I think I see a suit under that armor. Classy. If only he weren't such an ass.

"Okay, how's this, would you prefer I pulled out nicknames for you lot?" Names from a hat, go! "Buttons–" I point at the girl– "Mr. Hero–" I point at Chrom– "And I can't think of a polite one for you." I end that pointing at the suspicious asshat.

Really, the only nicknames I can think of for him sound pretty lame, like "knight" or some bullfrog. Maybe "suit", since he's wearing that suit under his armor? Actually, it's pretty silly. Argue now, laugh later. "I hate to admit it, though, you do have a point." Um, whatever happened to arguing? Think on your feet, me! "But if I were in your shoes, I'd be more polite about my suspicions." There! Win! I win!

I hear a snort of amusement. Huh, what's Button's laughing a– Oh. Oxymoron. "Politely suspicious". I smack myself.

"Okay, accidental humor aside, if I were lying to you, I probably would have crafted a more believable lie, like, "Oh, I remember seeing you once." But _that's_ a lie, since I can't remember anything right now! Confused yet?"

"Yes," says Buttons.

"I am, too, believe me. I would ask for your names, but sadly, in order to do that and be polite, I'd have to give my own first, which I can't remember because of this stupid amnesia dealie. Ugh." Life was so much _simpler_ when I was lying on the ground!

I can tell from his face that the asshat still doesn't buy it. I'm about to throw myself onto the ground in frustration when Chrom steps in. "What if it _is_ true, Frederick? We can't very well leave her out here. What sort of shepherds would we be then?"

Hello, handy info! The asshole is named Frederick, and... "shepherds", he said? I open my mouth to raise a question, but Frederick interrupts me before I even speak.

"Just the same, milord, I emphasize caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock."

Um, woof? Or is it baa? One of the two.

"Then we'll take her back to town and sort this out there." Simple answer, but it nudges the forboding in me up a notch.

"Do I have a say in this?" I ask meekly. This protest is mainly for show; I guess I partly appreciate being directed. I have no darn clue what to do. All I know is that I don't what to get screwed over because of something I can't help.

"Peace, friend, we'll hear all you have to say once we're in town."

"Really?" I ask. "All I have to say? That might be a bit much. But at least _you're_ friendly about it."

I hear a chuckle. Chrom waves for me to follow, and the four of us walk.

And walk.

I'm getting really hungry. Mm, food would be good right now. Anything at all. Stomach, for the love of all that is good, shut up.

Just when I was starting to dig in my pockets– there are so many in this coat! It's wonderful– a question occurs to me. I'd say we've been walking for about an hour now? Whatever. I still put my voice to use.

"So what are you going to do with me? Am I a prisoner?" I start to worry, especially since the image of being tied up somewhere sends chills down my spine.

Chrom chuckles, as though my fears are meaningless. "You'll be free to go once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse."

Two questions hit my mind at once. "What if you can't, since I have no memory? And, uh, what the hell is Ylisse and _how do you spell that?!_" Okay, _three_ questions, but the third was tardy to the party.

He looks a little exasperated, too many questions at once. Frederick speaks up instead, and of course he teases me. "You've never heard of the halidom?" He then laughs. I wanna slug this guy, but that wouldn't do much for my brownie points right now. "Someone pay this actress! She plays quite the fool. The tone of her voice is especially convincing."

Did he just one-up me in terms of wit? Okay, you're dead. I open my mouth to unleash a retort of doubtlessly greater wit, but Chrom cuts across me.

"Frederick, please." Thank you, but may I burn him now? "This land is the halidom of Ylisse. I suppose proper introductions are in order... My name is Chrom, but you already knew that." I nod. "The dlicate one–" I raise an eyebrow; that could refer to myself– "is my younger sister, Lissa." Those two are related? Damn.

Wait, a name for Buttons! Finally! I smile because I like knowing people's names, meanwhile Bu–_Lissa_ jumps up and down in protest. "I am _not delicate_!" And then she folds her arms with a "Hmph!"

This was somehow adorable and annoying at the same time. She continues talking. "Please ignore my brother." Upon turning to me, her arms unfold and clasp behind her back. Aww. "He can be a bit thick sometimes." And I haven't proven myself so? (I don't say this, because I don't want to invite a snark from Frederick.) Lissa cuts across my next thought. "You're lucky the shepherds found you, though– brigands would have been a rude awakening!"

That reminds me! I had a question I wanted to raise earlier! "Shephards!" I repeat. "You tend sheep. In full armor. Well, what next?"

"Hey, it's a– heh– dangerous job, just ask Frederick the Wary here." Why is Chrom chuckling? Why?

"A title I shall wear with pride," Asshat says, puffing up. "Gods _forbid_ one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise." I nod– everything suddenly makes sense!

One thing about myself pops into my head, my lack of trust towards strangers. I hate myself for it, but I identify with Frederick's own distrust. "I understand entirely, but it really sucks for the person on the receiving end of the suspicion. I just wish you'd be nicer about it." Oh, yeah, I'll bother you to hell and back over this. Despite my own breach in ettiquette, I curtsy slightly. "My name is Shanzira."

I could have sworn I'd seen a glint of green around the region of my left hand. Then I realize what I just said.

"Holy crap! My name! I remembered my name! Finally." I then whisper it to myself over and over, feeling as though this will help me remember it. I still feel like my apparent IQ took another drop, though.

"Is that foreign? I've never heard it before." He shrugs it off, though, and I'm feeling all the more foolish for having a weird name. "Ah, well, we can discuss it later, once–"

"CHROM!" Lissa blurts. OW, MY EARS! I straighten back up from my cringe and I look to see where Buttons is pointing. Smoke in this distance, rising up from a town.

Oh, gods. Of course. Shit like this _always_ happens.

"What of her?" Frederick asks quickly.

"Unless she's on fire, it can wait!" Chrom shouts this, waves his hand for Frederick and Buttons to follow, and sprints off for the town.

I don't even think; I follow them.


	2. Helpless

**Author's notes: I finished writing this some days ago, and I just couldn't be bothered to type it up until now. This is the first half of a really long chapter, so I put in an appropriate chapter break. I took a reviewer's advice and rewrote everything I had after the Prologue, though the changes apparent in this self-insert's "playthrough" won't become apparent until next chapter. There are a few hints, but they're just hints up until they actually happen.**

**Also, Shanz is going to come across as a serious pessimist now, because reasons. How she wound up in Ylisse has a bit to do with that, actually.**

**Anyways, really long chapters. This is longer than the previous chapter, "Without". Enjoy, it was REALLY FUN to change the dialogue so much.**

**Edit: Oh my, I should have proofread this.**

I am so screwed.

What even possessed me to follow these guys? I could've run away. Run away and preserved my life. But no, I'm standing a little ways away from the fight I just _know_ is about to happen, at war with myself. Part of me says to help them, because I'd regret it if I didn't. The other part screams about self-preservation.

Wait, that's a dumb argument. Okay, do I have any useful weapons? ... A sword and a tome? Come ON! Why not a lance– I take it back, actually, these bad guys wield axes. Shit. Swords best axes. Okay, what about the tome? I flip through it. Huh. Letters are familiar, but it takes me too long to read 'em for them to be practical in combat, unless I have time to prepare, which I hardly do. Tome goes into my coat and _gods_ this thing is so luxuriously _huge_ and it has _tons_ of pockets and I love it to death. I draw my sword, ugh, heavy, crappy bronze thing, and I give it a practice swing. Yep, I'm fucked. I draw myself up, so as to convey confidence– wow, my posture's lying for me, how about that– and I approach Chrom and buddies.

"Shanzira!" He sounds surprised to see me. "What are you– why did you follow us?"

"It's really hard to explain, but I figured that if I'm going to be screwed over, let me do it myself." Yeah, then I can't play "pin the blame on the scapegoat". "I'd hate myself if I sat and did nothing anyways." Yeah, that's definitely true. I grip my sword with both hands– godsdamn thing is already dragging me down– and I really need to get in shape. If I survive. Anyways, battle first, nitpick later.

"Don't sell yourself short. I think you might be more useful than you suspect." Honey, stop it. I'm dead meat and I know it. I just don't really care anymore.

"You _do_ understand, then, that this is kill-or-be-killed?" That was Frederick.

"Yeah. Makes it even better." Why did I say that? I glance around, and it hits me that these guys– Chrom and friends– don't really follow a plan or anything, and seem to act on impulse. They must have less regard for their lives than I do. Well, since I don't want to see anyone get hurt– It's my dream I'm thinking about now– I open my mouth again. "Buttons, since all you seem to have is a staff, stay close to Ass- to Frederick." Whoops, don't cuss out your allies, me. "And I think it would be a good idea if I stuck to Chrom, then, because I might actually learn a thing or two."

"Are you a tactician, Shanzira?" Buttons wonders aloud.

"No, I'm just wondering why the hell you guys fight in such a ragtag manner is all. If being battle-wise compared to y'all makes me a tactician, then I worry about the people here." I should really stop being such an ass. "But, hey! If you guys think my advice is stupid, ignore it and do whatever. I'm not saying you should do everything I say."

"The counsel you gave us earlier sounds good to me." I'm surprised, slightly, by this encouragement from Chrom. "We'll take your orders for now; having a tactician gives us a distinct advantage."

Okay, I'm smiling, damn it. That felt good to me, hearing that. _Finally, someone has something good to say to me._ Wait, where did that thought come from? I glimpse another glint of green by my left hand, but I have no time to inspect it now– we need to fight. I roll my head around and point Chrom to the nearest baddie. I stand back and watch as Chrom rushes over willy-nilly, though he's a lot faster than I am, and takes a crack at him. He deals a good hit and doesn't suffer a scratch in retaliation, but the swordfighter's not down yet.

"Why don't you step in and assist?" Asks Asshole.

"Muh–me?" I freeze up, deer-headlights style.

"Yes, you. You claim you're unskilled in battle. The chance to change this is now."

FUCKING. FREDERICK. (Hindsight: I'm not entirely sure why this pisses me off.) Giving me a godsdamn "pep talk" like that! I want to slug him... Though that would be completely counterproductive.

"Who are you, my father?" I snort. And then– with all the self-loathing myself could muster, I think, I run up and flank the guy I sent Chrom after. Okay, this wimp wasn't really very strong to begin with. Okay. I try not to scream as I take a two-handed swing.

He collapses, his head rolling slightly beside him. Chrom notices me, notices the look on my face, and smiles, which I assume is his way of encouraging or comforting me? I'm not sure, but it doesn't really godsdamn help. I could faint right now. I just killed a man. I want to drop my sword and vomit, but I remain– at least partially– composed. Chrom points another bad guy out to me, a ways behind me. I whistle to sic Frederick on the poor sucker– _he_ can take care of it. I take a glance for more brigands.

Chrom takes advantage of this interlude. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything. Everything is wrong. I just killed someone."

"And probably saved many lives. Just think of it like this– he won't be bothering anyone after today."

"Yeah, sure. My mind grasps this, but my heart doesn't give a shit." Agh, there's another swordsman over there! I look at Chrom and point to this sap, and he gets the signal and hauls off while I follow.

This tactic– Chrom softening them up while I finish– actually works pretty well. I hardly notice I'm hurt but for the sickening thunders of my heart, the distressed churning of my stomach, and the salty stench of blood in the air– which is to say, I'd be daft not to notice that I'm still alive. Suffering, but still alive. Trade-offs. Still, I suppose death at the hands of these brigands would be a painful end.

We cross a footbridge, and over it I can just make out one final sucker, and it strikes me as being a bad idea to rush in at him. See, he looks a bit burlier than the others before him did, and he's really alert. I quickly weight my options and pull out the tome.

"You know magic?" Chrom whispers.

"I think I can make out the words... Yes, I have it." I'm pretty sure it's a simple chant that I just say and kapoofle, wind. I raise up a hand to aim.

"Maybe I'd better stand back."

_Don't wreck my focus!_ "I won't hit you, no worries." I pray I don't hit him, and articulate. I go for clear diction, aaaaaand a gale flies out from my outstretched hand.

Bullseye! Whoo! I got h- AAAUUUGGHH!

"Aw, a little sheepy with magic? Come get slaughtered!" DIE DIE DIE YOU FUCKING SHITTING SUNUVABITCH AXE IN MY SHOULDER FUCK FUCK. Wait, I feel better? Oh, oh, it was Buttons, Buttons healed me, thank the gods for Buttons. I love you, Buttons. I hastily motion for Chrom to finish this... Can't think of a good enough insult, because I don't want to feel that again anytime soon. Augh.

Chrom kills him. Okay. Okay.

"Is that the last one?" This comes out as a whimper.

"It would seem so," answers the resident asshole, oh fuck it, I can't be assed to hate him right now, godsdammit. I let out a sigh of relief and _damn_ I'm tired. And hungry.

"Good thing we were close by!" Lissa chirps.

How the hell is she so _cheerful?_

Chrom turns to me with a smile. "That was well done, Shanzira." His smile slides off his face for some reason.

"Well done, my..." My snappish retort fades and I remember he's trying to be nice. "Well, th-thank you. I'll try to do better next time, though. I feel like I'm about to die."

"Are you hurt?" Buttons makes to wave her staff, but I hold up a hand to stay her.

"I don't think so. But I doubt I've ever been on a battlefield before." I raise a wrist to wipe my face– and I notice dark stains on my sleeve after doing so. Aw, shoot. Humiliated, I yank my cowl over my face. I can't be seen tearing up in public. So stop crying, me!

I guess I know why Chrom stopped smiling when he saw my face. Uuuggghhh.

"That wasn't bad for your first fight. There were a lot of things that could have gone wrong, and you dealt with it all well." Bullshit, then why am I godsdamn crying?

I wipe my nose but try not to sniff. My mouth opens to speak, but I don't actually trust my voice not to shake. I. Must. Not. Cry. In. Public.

The next thing Frederick says makes me want to drop kick him with iron boots. "Perhaps your next job well done will be an explanation as to how you came here?"

"Kicking me when I'm down won't help you." The speed of my retort amazed even me. "It might even bite you in the ass later on." I take a deep breath to compose myself, wipe my eyes one last time, and I throw my hood off. "I understand why you don't trust me. Really, I do. But I can't tell a story I don't know. And even if I did remember, I just... Descend into gibberish... Aw, fuck." So much for my godsdamn composure, my ability to form coherent sentences just failed on me. What sort of wimp am it...

A peasant cuts across my self-criticism as he shouts excitedly: "Milords, you must stay the night! While we are simple folk of simple means, we would gladly throw a feast in your honor."

I can feel the drool in my mouth. Wow, we're actually getting thanked?! Holy shit, yes! My tears stop and I look up. This guy mentioned a feast and gods I'm hungry! Maybe some bread would help me settle my stomach, oh that sounds so good right now. I smile eagerly and then–

"My apologies, but we must hurry back to Ylisstol," says Asshole.

"What?!" Lissa sounded rather squawky there. She beat me to the punch, actually, I'm too outraged to speak right this instant. "We're not staying? But, Frederick, it's nearly _dark!_"

I managed to eke out a few words, though they're not too clear: "I'm hungry and getting rewarded for doing good and I have to starve?! _Why?!_"

"These brigands spoke with a Plegian accent," Frederick sighs as though explaining math to a child. "A reminder to better watch our borders, and indeed, this is important news."

"Whattawhatta? I thought they sounded... Uh, explain?"

Chrom's the one who deigns to do so. "Ylisse's neightbor, to the west. They've made it a goal to start a war with us."

"Son of a... Witch," I finish. "I feel like I'm in a fairy tale gone bad. Like rotten honey roasted ham. Or something." Godsdamn, I am usually much more eloquent.

Asshole narrows his eyes in suspicion. "I expected you to be familiar with that, at least– you wear the garb of their state religion."

"I– what? But I hate religion, it's stupid. I mean, why pray to a lazy, do-nothing god who may or may not even exist?" These sentences come out haltingly; the pressure's affecting my nerves, which are, in turn, affecting my speech capabilities in new ways. "I'm– I feel I'm getting screwed over by something I can't even help. It's entirely not fair, but– wait for it– you're about to tell me that life's not fair, right?"

"When you seem to understand it yourself, I hardly need to repeat it, but it bears affirming..." Frederick smiles and I _swear_ there's a hint of sadism in this cruel bastard, "life is indeed not fair."

I blow out an impressive sigh. "I suppose... It beats being picked up by bad guys." I consider it all for a moment. "Who knows, this might even be preferable to whatever life I lived previously. I mean, it must have sucked, if I've turned out to be such a downer." That's putting it mildly...

"I wouldn't say you're a downer!" Buttons says with a smile tailor-made to cheer me up. "I think you're just afraid of everything." That sounds... pretty accurate, actually.

"It's time we left," Frederick reminds us. We begin a brisk walk out of the town, and as my mind calms down and my body starts to slow the heck down, I pay more attention to my hunger again. We pass through a market street and gods that bread smells so good. As we walk by, I reach out my hand several times for several different foods, but each time I withdraw my hand, except for the last– a little red apple from an unattended stall. Only Buttons notices that Im eating food that come out of nowhere, and she doesn't say anything. Good old Buttons. I love you. The asshole doesn't need to know that there's a red delicious astray and fuck he just looked this way.

"Where did you obtain that apple core?" (It's been a few hours, and we've long since left the town.)

"Well, it was an apple once, and then I ate it, you see." None of us break stride for this.

He furrows his brows and repeats himself, obviously frustrated by my snarky response. "Where. Did. You. Get. It?"

"What's it matter? It's just an apple."

"Oh, gods," Chrom says, and I just just hear him adding "here we go again", except he doesn't, I just imagined it. This means... Lecture time!

And wow, does Frederick give a mean lecture. He really pushes my to my limit– it takes a lot of willpower to ignore him, because there are so many chances for a good snark back at him. Regardless, I keep walking. I understand this bullshit! I understand what might happen because a simple apple disappeared. I get the "for want of a nail" crap, and I get that the farmer who would've sold it could have missed out on his dinner because of this. well, guess what? For want of an apple, a meal was lost, for want of a meal, a tactician was lost, for want of a tactician, a strategy was lost, and I'm sure the rest is easy to pick out. All for want of an apple, asshole.

See, that there's delightful bullfrog. I have a problem– I coin these _brilliant_ retorts when someone's lecturing me on my vices, but because I'm supposed to be some kind of _well mannered lady_, I never voice any of them. Actually, I can't believe this guy busted out so strict a lecture for something as petty as nicking a meal. Oh, he's nearly done.

"If I ever catch you at theft again– regardless of what it is or how minor it may seem– I will personally put the thief's brand on you." Oh, gods, really? Overkill.

I slip out a retort, cracking at last. "Got it, Daddy." I would emphasize my nonchalance, but that defeats its entire purpose. Aaaagh, even though that was the best retort I thought of, I'm still unhappy that I let it slip out. Oh well, I'm about to get roasted even more. Wait, is that Buttons who's giggling? I feel somewhat safer.

"Amusing," Frederick growls. He opens his mouth again fresh lecture at the ready, and this time I furrow my brow and open up to strike back–

"That's enough, Frederick," intervenes Chrom.

_Ha! I win!_ That puts me out of my angry I-don't-give-a-shit mood. I close my mouth, and though I'm still frowning, I don't need to lash out anymore.

He continues to defend me. "All she did was take a single apple. One out of many, I suspect. No one will miss it, otherwise I doubt she would have taken it. Just drop it."

And Asshole sighs, defeated. "As milord wishes."

"Thank you, Chrom. I owe you a meal. provided, of course, I find an honest way to pay you back." I frown. "Actually, that might take some doing..."

"You could find dinner for us when we make camp tonight," he suggests.

"Wait, wh–"

"And it is dark now, so we need to make camp soon." LISSA! "The bugs are all coming out and making noise."

"It's settled, then, you can find us something edible."

All for want to an apple. I groan. We're gonna starve.


	3. I'm Sleepy!

**Author's notes: Two chapters on one night, since I feel generous and diligent (wonderful change, by the way). NOW everything's going to get fun. Yes, there are plenty of in-jokes, but some things in here will be easy to get. I actually proofread this one more closely, but if anyone sees any errors, please let me know so I can change it. (This IS written in stream of consciousness, though, which is like bleeding your brain out onto paper...)**

**Also, since sandwiches were invented by... I think it was the Earl of Sandwich, I'm not sure that "sandwich" was a word way back when. Thus Virion's confusion a ways down.**

**I'm really tired, so this chapter was typed up and edited with that sentiment in mind. So, I think it has a sincere quality that most thingies I write lack due to circumstance. Enjoy!**

Remember when I said we'd starve?

I take it back. We eat well– or rather, Chrom and I eat well. Pyro and Buttons won't touch their food. (Pyro is Frederick; I assigned him that nickname, the most polite for him so far, upon finding that he has a thing for building campfires.) Well, if I weren't so hungry, I'd understand their hesitation.

"That's two meals I owe you now," I eke out between bites.

"You played a crucial role in catching it," Chrom argues.

"Yeah, _bait_. And I nearly set the damn forest aflame." (Don't even ask how; I'm not sure, myself.) "If you hadn't been around, I'd be bear food by now. One less thorn in his–" I point at Frederick– "side. Actually, I don't just owe you food, I owe you my _life_ now."

"If I saved you, why complain?"

"The only thing worse than being broke is being in debt, money-wise. And I don't even have the means to pay you back. I–"

"Don't worry about it. You don't owe me anything. Good came out of all this, anyways."

I sigh. "If you say so. Two years from now I'll still feel indebted to you, I wager." Everyone laughs at this, for some insane reason. "What? _What?_ What's so funny?"

Lissa is the one who speaks up, bless her. "You'll remember this two whole years from now?"

...

I'm an idiot. Amnesiac with a long memory.

"Godsdamn oxymorons," I groan, lying back and covering my face. "Stupid accidental jokes. We should find whatever village I must be from, I think we'll find they're missing their resident idiot."

More laughter. Hey, I'm funny! I smile and try to think of another joke. ... Darn it, none come to mind. Okay, then, I can live without one.

"Buttons, Badass, Pyro, and Idiot," I list. "What a motley crew. I'm not sure if this is the beginning of a comedy or a tragedy, pray it's the former."

"Did you just give out new nicknames?" Buttons asks.

"Well, all nicknames are tentative, since I come up with tons of them. Except yours. I'm marveling that I managed to coin a polite one for Frederick. Maybe there's hope for me yet." This was a joke meant just for me, so it's ok that only I get it.

"Mind explaining who got which names?" Chrom asks.

"You mean it's not obvious?" I ask back. "Buttons is Lissa, Pyro is Frederick, you're Badass, and I'm Idiot. Or rather, I'm _the_ idiot." I end that with a wink and a smile. "No one is allowed to be dumber than me."

"That's a high standard!" Lissa whines.

I snicker; she pretty much just insulted her intelligence. I don't snark this at her, despite the shockingly wide opening she just made. "You're welcome, Buttons!"

"Thank you, Shanzy! Er, can I call you that?"

Haha, she still doesn't get it. "Sure thing. Now eat your food."

She frowns at the bear meat before her. "No thanks. I don't like meddling with the food chain."

"But humans are on top; we can eat anything. We're not meddling."

"Is "anything" supposed to include meat that smells like old boots? Wait, take that back, boots smell better!"

"Eat your food, Lissa, or you'll starve. For want of a meal, a healer was lost–"

Chrom starts laughing his ass off at this. Why yes, I _was_ paying attention to that big huge tirade earlier! Apparent IQ +20. I like the sound of Chrom laughing, it puts me in a good mood.

"This would be more likely to kill me! It– yuck," Lissa stops short after having tried to put some into her mouth.

"Eat your fish, Buttons–"

"Fish?! Where'd that–"

"Eatyourfisheatyourfisheatyour–"

And then it all devolves into laughter; this is just plain silly. All four of us spend a good while laughing, and gods, it feels _good_.

"I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard."

"Of course you don't, you have amnesia," Chrom snickers.

"Fish," gags Buttons. "Where'd that come from?"

"I have no idea." I wipe a tear from my eye, of amusement this time. "Something I read once? I don't know, like Badass just said, I'm the amnesiac here." I lie back. "Eat your fish, Frederick."

He freezes up for a split second, then: "I–I... Had a large lunch! Yes, that. I'm not hungry; no need for concern on my behalf." Nervous chuckle. That response sure was quick, wasn't it?

"You're a baaaad liar, it's funny. Okay, if you're fine with starving... Oh, wait, I think I still have that apple core fro–"

"N-no, thank you! I'm not hungry!"

"That's your story, and you're sticking to it? Okay, fine. Good night!" I turn over to sleep.

* * *

As it turns out, I suck at sleeping. I lie awake on not-so-hard ground for what I assume to be hours, distracting myself with the faint sound of someone– I think's it's Chrom, but I could be wrong– tending the fire.

Something hits me, then. That little green glint I kept seeing earlier. I examine my left hand.

How pretty, there's a little piece of quartz on a string, tied around my wrist. Stuck to it– I know not how– are two little clear green stones. It really is a nice trinket, though I'm sure the crystal's quality sucks. (I can't see much detail! It's dark.) The little green stones must have caught the light earlier.

I then see a little spark in the quartz, though there's no way it can reflect or refract the dull firelight from here. It's enchanted, I decide. It must be. But I can't for the life of me figure out what it does. Perhaps I ought to ask someone to help me figure out what it– waaaaait a minute.

What if my memories are in this thing? It would make sense– it glowed during moments of clarity in my mind. Yes, yes! It must be that. I close my eyes again and put my hand down. I feel proud of myself. Now, sleepytime?

There are sounds disturbing the silence. Urgh, why? Someone's moving. I open my eyes and roll my head over (nothing too obvious) to have a look. Chrom's up, standing, and alert.

Then I realize why the sounds of his movement bothered me– everything else is totally silent, even the bugs. Trying not to make a sound, I reach for my sword. Are we surrounded? ... No. There's no one else nearby. Just the four of us.

More movement, and I hear Lissa's bouncy footsteps just outside my range of peripheral vision. "What's wrong, big brother?" Naturally, she's whispering, but it's still stark against the utter silence.

"I didn't mean to wake you... Go back to sleep. It's nothing."

I pull out a stage whisper. "Nothing, my wonderfully large coat. Listen, listen carefully."

There's a pause. "There's nothing," she says.

I give a thumbs-up. "Exactly. Isn't that odd? Complete silence in all four directions. The animals being quiet I can understand, but the bugs? Something's up."

"I think I'm going to have a look around," Chrom says, glancing around for a good direction to do so in.

"I'm going with you," Buttons whispers in reply.

"I'm staying, if I wander off, Pyro will get suspicious." I sit up. "Just let me know the direction you go in, in case something ha–... ppens..." There's a really terrible feeling in my gut, and I _know_ that's not the bear meat.

"Shanzira?"

"Go ahead and go," I say. They walk, and I spend a few minutes quietly struggling with this inexplicable sense of dread. I hope it's wrong, but I think my gut feelings are usually right. I stand up. "Pyro! Wake up. Something's wrong."

He's a little slow at first. "Hmm...?" Then he notices Chrom and Lissa gone, and hurriedly scrambles to his feet. "M– Where are–"

I interrupt by pointing in the direction they wandered. "Walked off that way. I haven't heard jack, so I _think_ they're okay, b–"

CRASH.

The first thing I notice is Frederick stumbling and falling– in full plate armor, that's almost as bad as drop kicking a lever in the same, wait where'd that come from– and then I realize _why_, it's because the damn ground is shaking– FUCK, EARTHQUAKE. Unbidden, a brief vision of being on the toilet during an earthquake comes to mind, along with a hilarious comment that made me giggle, despite my fear of this nasty earthquake oh gods where did that _forest fire_ come from?!

"Get up!" I offer my hand to FUCKING SHIT HE'S HEAVY. I meet the ground clumsily, and getting up again is a challenge, what with the damn shaking. Earthquakes like _these_ actually last a while. I get up again anyways, because I actually think it's fun to stumble about on unstable ground (I know, I'm weird). After about another minute, the ground ceases to heave, and I blurt, "Okay, _now_ let's go."

All the clumsy scrambling is done with; now we're actually running seriously. It's hard to breath, and I wish I had a scarf or something to filter the smoke. I dunno, I'm not about to admit out loud that I have _no clue_ what I'm doing.

There's a clearin– Ah! Found 'em! Buttons and Badass! I speak up to express my relief, but it seems Asshole had the same idea.

"Milord, milady–" "Buttons, you look white–" "–Are you unharmed–?" "–As a sheet! You okay?"

"Um, what?" Lissa asks.

"I asked if you–" "I was merely inquiring–" "–And Badass are okay because–" "–As to your present–" "–Oh, fuck it–" "–Condition, is light of recent events!" (Frederick is the one who finished.)

"Get off my damn script, Asshole!" I yell.

"You two argue like an old married couple," Lissa giggles. At first I blush in embarrassment, then I see Frederick doing the same and I laugh. I laugh hard. I love these guys, they're hilarious. The whole silly factor of this mess hits me all at this time, and I'm doubled over.

"Everyone, keep your wits about you! There are enemies nearby!" I know Chrom's trying to sober us up, but I can't help it, this is–

**_OW!_**

Where did that arrow come from?! Ouch, can't move arm without pain, ouch, ouch, fuck, what do, "Buttons, help, oOWW," voice rising far about usual pitch, whimpering like a kid, shit there go the tears, fuck, fuck, "_OUCH!"_ Ah, better. Someone yanked the arrow out, then Buttons healed me. Arm is usable again. Damn, getting shot sobers you up real quick– THEY RUINED MY JACKET!

I wipe my face. Okay, forest is still burning, jacket is still ruined, and I'm pissed as all hell. there are these weird things not too far away, they have the rough shape of humans but look like... zombies, yes, zombies. They're charging at us.

"Frederick, Chrom, in front, now. Buttons, get behind me. I will... Uh... Oh, shit." I might be really angry, but some good it does if my temper doesn't match my physical power. "I'll be on the front lines, too." This is probably the best way to teach myself what I need to learn: A really steep learning curve.

"Are you sure about that?" Chrom asks.

"I... I need to do this." I can't explain it. I twirl my sword (nearly drop it in the process, fail) and make a mental note to find a better weapon– I can't use a _sword_. Teeth gritted, Chrom and Frederick on either side of me... I should be okay. I'll be okay. Why am I so worried? I shouldn't...

The wave of zombies breaks against us. What the hell even _are_ these things? With these two doing all of the work, I'm actually not very taxed for this. I'm stunning them and knocking them to the sides so the guys can finish them off. These monsters are actually _really_ hard to kill. Wait, shit, one got past Chrom, it's going for Lissa, shit I can't get out–

It collapses the the ground and fades into dark mist. So that's what happens why they die? I can't see. But what killed... an arrow, through the eye, mayhap? There _is_ an arrow lying there now. Where's the arch– Oh, waaait a minute. I hastily pull my cowl over my face, and note that my quartz bracelet is gleaming again. That's right, there's a chucklehead entering the scene now, and he's a–

"My dear lady!" He says in a funny accent. "Are you unharmed?" Yeah, this is that archer. He's got blueish gray hair, wearing this _stupid_ cravat, and I think he's a noble.

Oh, I should mention–

"Huh? So you shot that arrow! You saved me! Thanks!"

"'Twas a trifling matter for the archest of archers, my dear lady–"

"Shut up and fight!" I interrupt, dropping my voice to the loudest pitch I can still shout in.

–This guy likes to hit on anything female. Thus, the cowl. (I thank that weird memory crystal, it must have done something.)

"Yeah, Ruffles!" Enter a redhead on a horse, with a lance and armor matching her hair. Wait, a lance? That gives me an idea! "No time to waste. Captain Chrom! I'm here!"

Captain? Add "Le Capitan" to Chrom's list of nicknames.

"Sully!" (Think of the devil, and the devil shalt speak.) "Excellent timing. Your orders, Shanzira!"

This is a mess, I'm going to have a job clearing it up and getting everyone's names. "Ma'am, whatever your name is–" I actually didn't catch it, even though I'm sure Chrom just shouted it– "On my left flank. Frederick, move to the back and protect Buttons. Chrom, stay on my right. And, uh, you, archer guy, sandwich yourself between the van and the rear, and–"

"Er, sandwich?" He asks.

"Just stay behind me and shoot, dumbass!" What is unclear about the word "sandwich"?!

"Well, I never," he grumbles. He still follows my orders anyways. So, sounds like he doesn't realize I'm a chick. Score.

I return my attention to the foes in front of me. After brushing one enemy over to Chrom, I look to my fellow redhead and ask, "Wanna switch weapons? I can't use a sword."

"You sure? You look like you're pretty handy wi– Er, I take it back. You'd better switch with me." (I just dropped it.) We trade weapons, and I have something viable now. It's heavy, buuuut...

"Heh! Now you're talking!" Red's watching me rock this thing. Oh yeah, I'm awesome– wait FUCK four of these things at once!

"Chrom, with me! Archer, bring down as many as you can, now! Frederick, need you on the left flank; Buttons, RUN!" One zombie falls from an arrow in the eyes, and the other three are about to crash into–"

FIRES! What the hell, was that a flamethrower or something? A stream of fire just rushed out, parallel to our little line of defense, and cooked these guys like chickens. The purple mist is already gone when the fires clear. I look to my right and I see a hooded figure with a red tome.

"A fire mage?" Chrom asks.

"What _was_ that shit?" My voice's pitch rises high.

"Arcfire," answers the hooded one. Very feminine voice.

"Hot damn, that's tough shit. Well, since you're so helpful, mind coming over here? Could use you behind the van–"

She bellows: "I don't take orders from you!" I think I heard tears in that voice. I wanna help, but I figure to keep my distance. I glance back at the battlefield, noting one last zombie, and he looks to be the toughest.

"Do what you want, then," I say to her. I then gesture to the surviving zombie. "Chrom, Frederick, with me." The three of us charge.

Frederick strikes first, dealing a grievous blow. I take a step towards it, then I move back. Yeeahhhh, I don't wanna try that. Chrom notices my hesitation and finishes it off.

"Looks like that's it," I mutter to no one in particular as the zombie turns into mist. I straighten myself out. Now, where's that fire mage? Ah, in the distance. I dash over to her, noting the strength fading from my legs. "Hey," I breathe out.

Though she's still got a hood up, I vaguely see her eyes, but I can't make out the color. She regards me with a defensive posture. "I have nothing to say to you."

"You just did." She turns to leave. "Hey, wait. What did I do to wrong you?"

"You–" She hesitates. "Perhaps I was a little rude. _He_ would tell me to brush up on my manners, no doubt..."

"He?" I inquire. "Ah, never mind. Thanks for saving my ass– Sorry, our asses back there."

"D'you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"

"WHAT?!" Oh, gods, I can _feel_ the blush! "I don't _HAVE_ a boyfriend! I– I– where did THAT come from?!"

I can see a smile under that hood. "I see why... Perhaps you should drop the profanity, then!" This bitch is telling _me_ to be polite?!

"Ugh, I don't need to deal with this. Who are you, my mother?"

She gives me a wry smile, and I walk away, frustrated. Hey, everyone else is all gathered around something– some_one_, sorry, it's some masked dude. So who's this douchebag? I come in next to Chrom. "What'd I miss?" I whisper.

He opens his mouth to answer, but whatever he says is lost on me as I notice this guy is lookin' at me funny. When I say funny, I mean weird. Hrm.. If Chrom is "Mr. Hero", then this guy is "Anti-Hero". They seem to be a matched pair, like twin blades. Oh, wow, that's a really cool thought. But back to reality– this guy's staring at me.

"Um, who are you?"

"I just explained..." (That was Chrom.)

"You," the masked man says. There's cold in his voice, brr. "What are you doing here?"

"Do I know you?" I ask. "Everyone I meet is suddenly giving me the cold shoulder, and I don't even know _why_..."  
"If it comfort you, _I_ can–"

"NO!" Looks like Edgey found out I'm a woman. Godsdamn it, when did that happen? "That's even _worse!_" The look on his face cheers me up, though. I turn back to the masked guy. "To answer your question in a really vague and annoying way, I'm helping and being helped. Your turn, who are you?"

"I need not repeat myself. I will warn you of this: The world teeters on the brink of calamity; the events of tonight are but the rise of the conductor's baton."

"You just compared an apocalypse to a symphony? If I get your meaning right, that is. So what happens _other_ than zombies and earthquakes and forest fires?"

And then the prick just walks away without clarifying. "That son of a bitch, he's trying to warn people of the end of the world and he _half-asses_ it? Bastard, what the hell?" A few feet ahead, I see him stop and... Is he _snickering?_ What? "Okay, what stupid thing did I say _NOW?!_"

"If it makes you feel better, Shanzira, I don't know, either." Thanks, Buttons.

"Must be some kind of in-joke," I grumble. This is followed up with a sigh. "Well, I won't begrudge him his humor... Is anyone else sleepy as all get out?"

I'm answered by a yawn from Chrom, of all people. (I didn't think he'd get tired, or even show that he's tired. Well, the more you know.) "Perhaps it would be best if we let this sit for the night..."

"Agreed." I turn to Edgey and Curly (The archer and redhead, respectively). "And you two better tell me your names before I permanently stick you with nicknames. I'm Shanzira."

"It's Sully," answers Curly. I nod, knowing I'll forget it by morning.

"I am the archest of–"

"Abridge it, Ruffles!" I yell. "Or you're stuck with that and "Edgey" for the rest of your life!"

He blinks, obviously startled, and _finally_ cuts the crap. "It's Virion. My name, that is." I make a point to remember it so I don't have to ask him again. The less opportunity he has to talk to me, the better.

"Okay. Now, where'd we leave the camp?" I ask. I rub my fingers against the hole that arrow made in my coat, not even caring about my coat being ruined anymore.

Once we get back, I fall asleep easily due to exhaustion, forgetting everything.


	4. Insecurities

**Author's notes: This isn't dead fic, no worries. I spent the entirety of my spring break trying to write this, WHOOPS. Even now, I feel it's not up to par with my usual writing. It's hard to write when I don't have a teacher to ignore. So I'll just post this real quick before my spring break ends and I start producing prolifically again.**

**The beginning starts off somewhat unique, and then I wind up following the script. I apologize to anyone who reads this, I really tried to differ from it, but... when the creative juices don't flow, they don't flow.**

**Enjoy, and kindly leave a review, if you'd like! :D**

* * *

The sun isn't even up yet and I'm awake. Godsdamn it. I toss and turn for a while, trying to return to a snoozing state, until I decide I _really_ need a chamber pot or something. Sadly, there aren't any around, so I scribble a note in the dirt– "Be right back"– and go in the woods.

The forest fire died out a long time ago, before we even fell asleep last night. Everything that the flame touched is now a charcoal-y black, and there's not a whole lot of green and brown left. It fills me with sorrow, to the point where I cringe at the sight of a tree whose limbs burned in the blaze.

Yeah, I'm sensitive. Hush.

I decide to wander around for a bit longer. I'm puzzling over the events of the previous night– to my surprise, I remember them well, probably because I'm something of a night owl. We got two allies, and I assigned them nicknames... Actually, I gave a heck of a lot of nicknames yesterday. It feels like all that happened in two separate days, yet I know it was within a twenty-four hour span. Gods, that's... wow.

I don't really feel like swearing right now.

But I just met a whole bunch of new people, and I guess they're toting me around for a bit. I'm loathe to trust them, I really am, but I feel shitty for it (look, shitty was the only word for it). Everyone except Frederick and whatever the hell Edgey's name is is pretty amicable. Buttons is nice and a literal lifesaver, Curly– wait, her name is _Sully_, wow, I remembered it, Sully is a real badass; and Chrom is just easy to get along with. And I don't trust these guys, and I feel terrible about it. Stupid selfishness. What am I even supposed to do?

"Admiring the scenery?" That voice is the fire mage from last night, the snooty witch.

I twist around in alarm, both hands flying to grip my lance. Yeah, now that I see her, it is that hooded woman, and I notice just how well–made her weapons are. Ohh, crap. Gods, spare my life.

"Nn... What do you want?" Gods _damn_, my voice and heart are traitorous, one keeps raising in pitch while the other won't slow the heck down.

"I saw you wander from your friends and wondered what suspicious things you might be up to." She sounds bored and disappointed, a bright counterpoint to my–

"YOU WATCHED ME TAKE A PISS?!" –Outrage. "What sort of indecent– Have you no propriety– You, you... WHY?!"

"I thought– You might– I looked away!" Oh, wow. Now _she's_ embarrassed. "I thought you might do something else, like run away, and it looks like that's what you're doing."

"I can't even go for a gods... darn _walk_ without people spying on me? Woman, there is a little thing called privacy you need to know about!" I pant a little, then I figure it's time to cut the crap. "Why are you suddenly talking to me? I thought you had 'nothing to say to me,' after all." Arms fold.

"I was distraught at the time. I couldn't think straight. I spent all last night mulling things over, and I've decided to help you." She mirrors my gesture.

"That's a shape change in tune to whistle." I eye her suspiciously for a moment, then sigh and decide not to press it. "Well, what's your name?"

"I... I can't tell you. Not yet. Nor am I joining your merry band, it... Wouldn't feel right. But–" I snort, interrupting her, but I let her continue– "I won't antagonize you, and if you need my help, I'll come."

Ugh. Half-hearted bitch. She's like that masked guy who half-assed his warning of the symphony-compared apocalypse. "Okay, how am I to summon you?"

"I'll be nearby. Just..." She pauses, thinking. "Just shout out at the top of your lungs in frustration. You have a loud voice, I'd have a job missing it."

My brow furrows. "Why are you being so annoyingly mysterious, like you know everything?"

"That's my secret. But I don't know your name, if it helps."

"It's Shanzira. Now, tell me yours!"

"Won't give away that secret, either."

"You mean you just can't think of a cool fake name." I smirk. Fake names are my specialty. ... I think. Hers is now "Hoodie".

"What manner of imitator would I be then? You've already got your hands full with Marth, don't you?"

New handy info! "Is that the masked jerk's name?" I'm proooobably going to have to ask Chrom about this later anyways. And then Hoodie snickers. "What? What did I do now?"

Chuckling, she asks, "you failed to catch his name?" Now _she's_ smirking, ugh.

I get all defensive and exasperated. "I was busy with you! And I suck with names. I'd probably have to ask for yours multiple times to get it. And he wasn't so polite as to tell me."

"So I've been told. I imagine you'll see more of Marth later on. So remember that name." That sounds ominous.

"I need to add a nickname or two to the list, then. And, wait, you talked with him?"

"We discussed a few things. We couldn't agree on some, but overall, Marth and I are on the same side."

Sides? Well, I suppose I'll just go with it. "Mine."

Hoodie nods. "More or less. But beware, he might try to..." She falters. I tilt my head, thinking carefully.

"Might try to kill me?" I offer.

"Yes, actually."

"So essentially, you're on my side and Marth's on Chrom's– I assume– and you'll work together as long as I side with Chrom." Gods damn, I don't see the reason for this bullshit. Who's our enemy, anyways? Why the need for "sides"? "This is rather silly. I haven't done anything. What reason has Marth to distrust me? And why were you so rude before? Explain yourself."

She smiles toothily, gods that's creepy with that hood of hers. "You might want to return before they start to wonder where you went."

"Tell me that much, at least! That's the big damn mystery!" She walks away, nonresponsive. "You troll!" I shout. "You're just having _fun_ with this!" I give one last wordless shout of frustration, then I head back to camp. Looks like everyone's just getting up.

Asshole pounces on me. "Where were you?"

"Dealing with indigestion. Still am. Want details?" Ah, yes. Pull out the squick. I do believe that shall be a handy weapon against Frederick.

He steps back, slightly disgusted. "No, that won't be necessary." Looks like "squick" works really well.

"We gonna go soon?"

"Once all present are finished with breakfast..." Hey! Looks like leftovers! Sweet, that was good... meat? I just eagerly bit into some, and, um, I think Buttons was right. I chew slowly, swallow, and that is enough for me. More than enough. Ew. I'm not really that hungry, anyways.

Chrom notices my hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, I just realized my stomach is more delicate than I assumed. Oops." And how! I hope I won't vomit... Now that I've thought of it, I'm starting to shiver with dread.

Chrom quirks an eyebrow. "You were fine last night."

Okay, I get it! It's suspicious. Inconsistent. "No, I was starving last night. People eat funny things when they're starving." Crap, I'm shaking even more. It's cold as he... STUPID OXYMORONS! It's really godsdamn chilly. I pull my hoods over my head. "How can you stand it?"

"Stand what?"

"It's freezing cold, and your arm is bare. You don't have any goosebumps or anything from it! It makes no sense."

"Maybe I'm just used to it?"

"Yeah, that seems the only explanation... Hey, maybe the chill will be good for me. I hope so." There's a beat, and the sounds of everyone picking their things up fills the silence, but only just.

Chrom breaks said silence. "You seem nervous."

Two questions hit my mind at once, both meant to be sincere. "You noticed? And– Forgive me, the blunt way is the only way I can think of to put this– May I ask why it matters to you?"

Now he's _really_ confused at me. "I'd have to be daft not to notice. It's apparent in your posture and speech. As for why it matters, you _did_ help us, twice. Being concerned is the least I can do to repay you."

"You've got it all wrong, Mr. Hero. I'm in _your_ debt. I'd be wandering and starving somewhere in not for y–" And the prick cuts me off.

"It's all a matter of perspective. From my point of view, you've done us a great favor. You weren't just a tactician in that last fight, you were in the thick of things, fighting as one of us. Does it mean nothing to you that you risked your life to help us when you could have run?"

"Um, no. Not really, no. I–"

"You'd risk your life for just about anyone, then?"

"Now, hold up, that isn't what I–"

"Did you ever even realize you could have–"

"STOP CUTTING ME OFF!" I'm tired of this crap! I see Chrom open his mouth to argue, but I've had enough interruptions. "No! It's my turn. What I mean to say is that... that..." Oh, great. Everyone's staring after that little outburst, and I don't feel comfortable admitting this to anyone. How do you explain– WITH_OUT_ being a drama queen– that's you're apathetic about your own survival? It's a weakness, and I can't afford to show any _more_ of those. I must appear pathetic as is. "... Never you mind. My... Issues are mine to hide, after all. So, um, please..." Great, I ended up causing a scene. Gods _DAMN_, I suck at this!

"If this fascinating attempt at theatre is finished, it's time we were on our way." For once, I'm grateful to Frederick. Really. He probably doesn't even _realize_ that he just saved me from the rest of that humiliation. We start to walk. I don't even want to imagine what everyone thinks of me now. I just want to go home, curl up in bed, and sleep away my troubles.

Except, it dawns on me, I _have_ no home. I have no home. The thought is foreign and terrifying. I have no place to go. No place of security I can rest in, no place to dump my troubles, no place where I can cry in peace. I can't imagine it, yet the reality is stark before me. I am lost, but for the group presently escorting me.

I am lost, confused, and alone in some foreign place, though I know not what is familiar to me. I'm a dead woman. The only thing familiar to me is this terrible sense of dread, and I wish it wasn't so.

_Perhaps you should have thought about that before,_ comes the unbidden thought. What...? I look to my quartz bracelet, and see a glow fade from it. Gods damn it. _Before what_, I shout at myself. _Before WHAT?_

I pull my hood a little further over my face and clutch at my sides as we walk. Thank the gods it's windy and noisy. I'm having enough trouble silencing my sobs as it. Even though it's chilly as heck, I like the wind. One silver lining, I get a nice, windy day. The wind might try desperately to pull my cowl off and it might sting the wet tear trails on my face, but it's blowing my coat around in the most magnificent fashion. I wanna draw that, be a frickin' masterpiece.

OW! Okay, wow. I just got hit in the face by the end of Chrom's cape... That's actually pretty funny. I let out a slight giggle, rubbing my face. Eh, they probably all think me mad.

It's the little details like these that keep me calm for the rest of the hike.

* * *

We come upon a village, no, town, no no, city. It's pretty– sunlight gleaming off the pale stone walls is a prettyful effect. The streets are very narrow– I think all six of us, standing shoulder to shoulder, would stretch from side to side. Oh, and did I mention there are a lot of people here? I mean a _lot_ of people.

"So... This is...?" I wait for Chrom to finish my sentence, and he doesn't. "Okay, so what is this?"

"Ylisstol, capital of Ylisse. I thought you knew that." He doesn't sound happy with me. I guess he hasn't forgotten that, um, outburst. But if nothing else, he's not negative...

"I'm bad at remembering names. It's why I give so many nicknames. But holy wow, look at all the people... I don't think I've ever seen any place so cramped."

"Cramped? But there's plenty of space here. But, then, we did pick you up in an open field..." No, Buttons, I don't think that's it. I don't think you get it, but whatever. We keep walking, and I have _no clue_ where we're going. Actually, we just passed by a market street, and the selection of coats there is _luxurious_, but I don't have any money and I smell freshly baked bread and _someone_ keeps dragging me away from everything! I raise a complain after the bread.

"Look, would it kill us to stop and eat? I'm starving."

"Milady spends half her time starving. You've eaten already today. At any rate, we shall indeed stop soon, if milady can be patient." Ugh, Frederick. I'm hungry _now!_ But I can't think of a better way to plead my case, so I shut up. Stomach's still growling traitorously.

I hear a shout from up ahead, and I look up in reaction. "The exalt! The exalt has come to see us!"

Time to earn an IQ+(number) bonus. "The exalt's your ruler, yes? I imagine it's not particularly safe for her to walk around so..."

Chrom nods his head sideways. "There's the tale of the first exalt who slew the fell dragon centuries ago when it threatened the world, which you can hear anywhere in Ylisse. But Emmeryn isn't just a ruler; she's a symbol of what Ylisse prizes: Peace. So, to properly show her trust in this, she greets the people every day."

"That takes balls," I remark in amazement. That would be suicide in most places, and this lady does this thing every day? _Damn._

"Hey, big brother, you forgot something," interjects Buttons. "You forgot to add "being the best big sister ever" to the list of what makes her awesome!"

"_Wait, what?_" WHAAAAAAAT?! "If she's your sister, then– Oh, sh– crap. That makes you two the– the..." I just can't see it. They don't look the part...

"The prince and princess of the realm," Frederick finishes for me, smirking. Damn you, this is _not_ funny, stop laughing! "You remembered milord's name and not this?"

"You don't– They hardly– you said you were shepherds, even after I raised a question!"

"And so we are," Chrom sniggers. Oh, very funny! AUGH! "In a manner of speaking, that is. We just have a lot of– heh– sheep."

"Is this some kind of joke? I just want to curl up somewhere and become invisible. Oh my gods, I've been swearing all over the place in front of royalty... I am in _so_ much trouble..." Apparently _something_ about my distress is hilarious, because everyone keeps fucking laughing! I do not enjoy being a laughingstock, you bastards...

"Don't worry about it, Shanzira." Buttons pats me on the back. "I already know all the bad words."

"PFFFT!" I spray-spit into the air upon hearing that. That was the silliest thing– wow, I didn't expect that joke out of Lissa. I hear a sigh from Frederick, and Chrom is _still_ laughing. Well, I guess if everyone's laughing their butts off... "So I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course not. You and Sully aren't the only ones here with foul mouths."

Oh, right, I forgot about Curly. She then speaks up.

"By the way, Captain, you don't mind if I take Ruffles and head to the garrison? Gotta start training harder for this mess."

"By all means. Shanzira, would you like to accompany her?"

"Umm," I answer. Curly or Chrom? ... "I think I'll stick with you and Buttons, if that's all right?"

"Of course. And, while we're at it, would you like to meet Emm? Looks like she's returning to the castle."

"Since apparently _you_ can give her nicknames, then sure. I can think of a whole bunch for her already– Emmy, Sparkles..." O-kay, Pyro, no need to stare.

"'Sparkles'?" He inquires. I shrug.

"Seemed better than "Emmy," really. More original." Turn to Buttons. "How nice is she?"

"You'll see!" Ugh. Sing-song. Gods damn it. I resign myself to being lead around for a while. I get used to the sigh of light gray fabric and a mop of blue (which is pretty much what Chrom looks like from behind) until my eyes wander to the side.

Whoa.

It's pretty in here.

I mean _magnificent_. There's tapestries and statues and paintings and asdfghjkl; SO MUCH ART. Once or twice I feel a push on my back to keep up because hot damn I can't help but stop and stare. "The Hero of Blue Flames..." "The Dark Dragon and the Blade of Light..." "The Blazing Sword's Master..." This stuff is gorgeous.

Shit! Who'd I bump into? Chrom? Why'd you stop? OH. THRONE ROOM. OOPS. I take a couple of steps back and try to look polite. ... And then I lose myself in a damn beautiful painting. I wish I were that good. Wait, I paint? I'll have to sit down and figure out all my hobbies at some point. I wish I had a good quiet corner, a pencil and perhaps a ream of paper. Go through that in a couple of months. See what I produce.

Someone calling my name?

"Muh?" I crawl out of my head.

"It seems Ylisse owes you a debt, Shanzira," says a soft voice. Blonde woman, circlet on the crown of her SHIT THAT'S EMMERYN. "Thank you."

"Um... Uh... Nuh– No trouble, Sparkles!" Oh my gods apparent IQ - 10. And that was so rude of me, not paying attention before. "You're very welcome." Oh gods why why why I'm such a moron. Please look away, I'm not sure I can bullshit myself any further.

Chrom saves me, bless him. "I've decided to make her a shepherd. She makes a good tactician." The way he said it, it sounded like it was in doubt to him. Well, I guess it would be. He's giving me an awful lot of credit. Sure, I've got brains, but I need brawn, too. Gotta be able to back myself up. But I don't say anything– for fuck's sake, I'm in front of royalty.

"If I may, Your Highness." Leave it to Asshole to scare me more. "Shanzira claims to have lost her memory, but it is only that: A claim." If I get pestered for that again...

"Yet you allowed her here, Chrom. Do you trust this woman?"

He nods, to his credit. "She risked her life to save innocent Ylisseans. That's good enough for me." That was very sweet of you, Mr. Hero. I could glomp you for that, I feel so much calmer now. You actually trust me. ... Wow.

"If you've earned Chrom's trust, then you've mine as well," Emmeryn says.

I nod my head and bow. "I am honored, um, milady." What am I supposed to call her? And how do I express precisely how honored I am? Because it's a lot.

Aaaaand Sparkles turns back to Chrom. "Chrom, we are about to hold council, if you would join us..."

"Of course."

"And that's our cue!" Buttons whispers to me. Then, not-so-sneakily, she darts at me, grabs my hand and WAIT WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! "I wanna show you something, Shanzira!"

"AAAA! I'm tired, can we slow down a little? Or maybe you can tell me where we're going?"

"You'll see!" Gods DAMN it!

Something else then occurs to me. "Well, before we do too much, I need to eat and then go clothes shopping. I can't live in just one outfit."

"Okay!"

Thus began the most wasteful and fruitful afternoon for a long time.


	5. Adapting

**Author's note: I'm starting to write these on the computer, as opposed to doing so by hand. I type faster than I write, so it's a thousand times easier to actually write stream-of-consciousness. And yeah, I don't really think in full sentences if I'm not writing something by hand.**

**Here's hoping I didn't just take a quality drop. Enjoy!**

* * *

It really sucks to walk places while carrying a load of fabric over one shoulder. No, really, it does. As in your shoulder will burn like hell because if you move your arm away from the folds and folds of fabric, it will aaaallll fall onto the dirty ground beneath you and you'll be stuck doing laundry on new clothes for x hours.

Naturally, the phrase "Are we there yet" flew from my mouth an annoying amount of times. And just as frequently, the reply was, "Not yet, you'll see when we're there!" and generally the one saying this was Buttons. After the fourteenth time, though, I did get a smack upside the head from Frederick, because at this point it was just a blatant dead horse gag. That's the funny part of the gag, though, when people start to crack under how godsdamn annoying it is.

Actually, the butt of almost all my jokes has to do with people's reactions. Hee.

A rather large estate comes into view, and it looks like some noble's summer home. "Okay, seriously, is this it?!" is what I blurt.

"Yes," Frederick sighs, probably relieved that I'm going to shut up.

"Oh, thank gods. I need some place to dump all this crap, my shoulders are burning." Did I mention that I volunteered to carry all of what Buttons bought? ... Yeah, not smart. And she had a deep wallet– guess where she stores it? IN THE FRAME OF HER HOOP SKIRT. WHAT THE HELL. She's a frickin' genius. Pockets in her godsdamn skirt. If I ever have to wear one of those for some _stupid_ reason, there will be pockets in it, and damn the consequences. (Like there would be any– who would even care?)

Speaking of pockets, I need to rifle through mine. Once my arm is free. We open and enter through a rather nice-looking gate, then through solid oak doors aaand... it's chilly in here. Damn it, it's chilly everywhere.

"This is the Shepherds' garrison! Make yourself at home." Buttons' smile is kind of cute, but arms, ouch. I take in the scenery, wood walls, a nice rug on the floor, a table and some chairs, and a suit of armor in the background.

And oh hey, people. Is it time for Names From a Hat yet? There's this dude who isn't wearing a shirt, and he has tan skin and blonde hair (what), this cutesy girl with her hair done up nice and she's wearing this pinkish armor, and a blonde girl with hair just as curly yet much neater than mine ("hax," I find myself thinking).

And the blonde girl runs forward and FUCK SHANZ DUCK! "Lissa, my treasure! Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?"

Forget Buttons, I think I just bruised something trying to dive out of the way... Aw, fuck. I'm doing laundry on new clothes later today. Shit, and I really liked that dress! (Even if Lissa said it showed too much skin. What's wrong with a little bit of back?) At least I can still wear that nice green coat without it looking too bad. I probably won't, this one's ten times warmer and I'm still cold.

Right, time to pick myself (and my loot) off the floor. "Buttons, I'm sorry, but I just dropped pretty much all the clothes we bought today. Some of your stuff might've gotten dirty..."

She looks over, in the midst of being glomped by Goldenrod. (Goldylocks?) "Oh! It's fine. I can always get Frederick to wash them." What. Frederick doubles as a manly maid? Shit, I gotta see that. (Goldy... All that glitters is deadly? Ugh. Damn, this nickname business can get tough. Not all that glitters is gold...?)

"What? Lissa, you have added to your wardrobe?" Goldylocks takes a step back from Buttons, and examines the mess-in-progress that is me. "And who is this you have carrying your things?"

"You can just ask me directly, you know." I rub my eyes, preparing for an earful. "My name is Shanzira. I would hear yours, before I forever dub you "Goldylocks" or something similar..." (I figure, since she seems a bit noble-ish, I'd better pull out the polite-sounding speech.)

She pauses a little before speaking, and does so in a cold tone (Brr! I'm cold enough, lady.) "... I am Maribelle. And what manner of name is "Goldylocks?" Precisely how fine was the cloth from which you were cut?"

"Ummm, that is a fine question indeed. I've not an answer for you. I have, um, amnesia. I would assume I am from the peasantry?" I don't have a godsdamn clue. I wouldn't expect to have a godsdamn clue.

"So the stranger is also a stranger to herself!" Belts out the shirtless dude. His name is now "Mr. Shirtless Scene." "The name's Vaike–" Oh, apparently it's Vaike now– "but you can just call me Teach!"

For the love of the gods. Too many names. "I told you my name, or are you just as bad with them as I am?" (Make a point of calling him some synonym of "student" that sounds good. "Pupil"? Fuck it, let's go with "student".)

"Wait, you did? What was it?" OH MY GODS, WHY. WHY WHY WHY. I'M SURROUNDED BY MORONS. I pick up the last folds from the floor.

"Buttons, where can I put all this stuff? Incidentally, a bed and some food would be nice, if at all possible." (Though I asked for food earlier, Frederick said no because of "budget reasons". Bullshit, Buttons paid for all this stuff herself. And she barely even dipped into her wallet.)

"Oh, you can just pick a room that seems empty. There are a lot of empty rooms here, this house–" "house", she says, more like "mansion"– "used to belong to Ricken's family, but they sold it to Maribelle's and then she gave it to my big brother so he could use it." Okay, I'm sorry, but all that flew in one ear and out the other. There were two names mentioned in there and I don't know who they are. So I don't ask, I just walk around through the halls and find an empty-looking room.

"Anyone in here?!" Silence. No possessions in here, either, just a bed, a mirror, and an empty closet. "Okay, this is officially my room!" I dump the clothes on the bed and sort out which pieces belong to Liss– what the hell? None of _her_ clothes got dirty from that tumble! Godsdamn it. Well, better bring these to Buttons. I walk back.

"These are yours, you get to carry them, my arms hurt." I dump them on her. She didn't get very much, thankfully. "If anyone else wants to say hi, do it now, before I go fall asleep."

"Umm." I turn to the woman in the pink armor, sounds like that was her. "I'm Sumia. And you didn't tell us who you are, just your name..."

I guess I didn't. Welp. "I'm an amnesiac Chrom found in an open field. I'm also– according to him– good with tactics, so I'm officially the idiot you lot get to take orders from on the battlefield. Or, more succinctly, I'm your new tactician. I wield tomes and lances, though I need practice with both." I need a lot of practice. But first, sle-

Front doors fly open, Chrom enters. Fuck. More conversation? No. Naptime. I turn to walk away, but I pause, because something tells me something funny's about to happen.

"Captain!" The girl in the pink armor squeals. She makes a dash for him OH MY GODS

THAT WAS THE BEST FUCKING PRATFALL I'VE EVER SEEN. I am doubled over laughing. See, she dashed forward, tripped over nothing, and flew upwards into the air and landed smack on her chest. Dust flew everywhere. I am so grateful for that gut feeling, otherwise I'd have missed a really good laugh. Oh. Oh, those are tears of amusement. Hello, happy tears, it's been a while. Her name is now Bumblebee.

Oh. Oh shoot. She's getting all self-conscious about her pratfall and oh shit. That wasn't a pratfall, it was an accident. Oh crap, I just made myself look like a bitch. Oh. Oh, oh, suddenly I don't feel so good. I wipe my face. "Sorry I laughed, that was just... I've never seen such a spectacular fall."

"You'll get used to it," Bumblebee murmurs ashamedly. "It happens a lot."

"Those boots of yours?" Chrom asks.

I look down at my boots. Fuck, these are shiny and pretty. Okay, maybe not shiny– whenever I see something I really like, I'm apt to call it "a shiny" or just "shiny". And yes, I know Chrom isn't talking to me, I just noticed that I'm wearing nice clothes. I don't really pay attention. I look at Bumblebee's boots. They don't look like tripping hazards to me– Oh, I get it, she doesn't like her clumsiness, so she tries to excuse it.

Honey, get used to it. It's part of you. Make use of it.

I don't have a lot of patience for this kind of self-pity. I find it to be really, really annoying. That's all there is to say on the matter.

"I'm going to sleep," I announce, turning on my heels. Afterwards, I find myself curled up in a feather mattress, and snuggling and shivering underneath a couple of blankets.

It takes a while, but sleep meets me at last.

* * *

Daydreaming. Riding on a horse like some badass. Twirling a lance and mowing down enemies. Coat flows behind me epically in the artificial wind I create with my magic. I am awesome. Buttons and Chrom give me pats on the back, and say "Well done, Shanz!"

But of course, I'm not that.

Reality is what hits me as I get up and examine my reflection in a mirror. Look at that baby fat on my face. That little ramp nose. I shed my coat. Gods, I'm a damn stick. No muscle. My fingers are ridiculously bony. Well, I guess I am kind of pretty... Adorable roundish brown eyes, round eyebrows that I guess look kind of cute, and– this is without a doubt the prettiest part about me– that glorious red hair I have tied back. It's a dark red, like burnt sienna. I pull a lock free from the tie, how it curls and waves so elegantly. Goldilocks ought to be jealous. I untie my hair, comb through it with my fingers, and tie it back again. Oh yes, I have great hair. And I guess a kind of curvy body isn't bad, either. Kind of? I don't know the standard, so I don't know if I'm a wire frame or curvalicious. (Did I really just think that? Ugh.)

Reality is looking at my reflection, and knowing I'm not a warrior, I'm a godsdamn civilian. I put my coat back on. I should dig through those pockets.

Tome, lint, candy– that disappears down my throat– lint, lint, and a pocket that seems to be sealed. No matter how I try to pry or rip or tear, it won't yield its contents. I guess it's magic? I dunno. What about the tome, I wonder. What's in there? I open it up.

Now that I'm in calm, these letters are a little easier to read. "Lightning... Thun...der..." I read bits and pieces to myself, careful not to form a full spell. This is not actually very hard to read, and the script is familiar. Very familiar. I flip pages. Yeah, I get this. I oughta be ready to use magic in our next scrape. Back in the pockets, tome. I get up and exit my room. I wish I had drawing materials. Or clay. Or something. I need to do something with my hands or I'll go crazy.

"Hey, Shanzira!" That voice is Sully. Curly. Whichever. "You're up just in time. Dinner's ready!"

Am I even hungry? ... Take that back, I'm starving. I've only eaten once today, fuck the candy. "Food!" I dash over to her. "Where?"

"Hah! Just follow me." I like Curly, she's awesome. Really awesome. Red is just a really good color for her. She takes me through a hallway to a large room with a biiiiiig table. Looks like dinner is actually remotely formal in here (uuugggghhhhh.) I grab a plate, pile it high with food (Chicken and dumplings! Mmm... Starch...), sit at the table, and get to work.

"As everyone can see, we have a newcomer," I hear Chrom say. I look up from my food-shoveling. Oooooooops. Uh, heave a swallow there, Shanz.

GULP. "Hey." That came out as something of a mumble. This feels awkward. Why does he feel the need to _announce_ it? "I'm, uh, Shanzira. And I'm really, really bad with names, so everyone's going to get nicknames. Even after I remember y'all's names." Nervous ear-to-ear grin. Back to inhaling food. Pause. Stomach needs to sit for a minute.

"Welcome to the shepherds, Shanzira!" says a guy in green armor. Brownish-green hair is what I notice on him. First thought for a nickname is "Vegetables". I glance around the room, and while it does disintegrate into a babble of "hey there"s and "welcome to the group"s, I point out people to myself and assign nicknames. "Glasses", "Shortie"... Actually, I've met most of the people here. Only Vegetables, Glasses, and Shortie are unfamil... That suit of armor just moved. New nickname, "Voidy". Better nicknames later. First, food. I finish it off and go get sec... Okay, I'm full. Full, but thirsty. Grab a mug, fill with water, glug it down. "Glub glub" is the phrase that comes to mind after drinking it.

Make a mental note, never go anywhere without water. Mental note made, okay. Keep drinking, Shanz, you're thirsty as hell. Mm. Water. Looks like everyone else is starting to finish up. I set my mug down and look to see what the deal is with dishwashing.

Seems straightforward to me. Someone scrubs while another person dries. Okay. I grab a scrubbing brush and get to work, wordlessly volunteering for the task.

Now, isn't this familiar? Doing dishes just after dinner. Normally, I hate this chore to death. Er, I think I'm going to try and eschew that phrase from my speech. All I need is soap, oh there's the soap. Well, I guess if it gets me to do something, it's worth a damn. Besides, these plates are really heavy, and I need to build up my arm muscles if I'm going to survive.

Trying not to squee, still can't believe my turn in fortune. Oh? Looks like I didn't have that thought before. Well, I can't believe I'm actually here. It looks like this is going to be one of those few moments where I have all my memories– the good, the bad, and the painful as all hell– but of course, if I had them all the time, that wouldn't be fair to the bad guys, now would it?

Shanzira's not my real name. I can live without it, though. This is another world entirely, and I don't see how I could return "home," or why I would even want to. So... New life, new name. Seems appropriate. I begin to whistle as I work. Yes, I'm that damn excited. The trick is to keep it contained. Imagine how damn weird it would be to explain all this crap, that I come from another world, and I only know the future because it's in a game I've played. A game I spent quite some time obsessing over. It was like the moon shining through the clouds on a dark night. And then the clouds obscured that, too...

Stop thinking about that, that's painful. You have dishes to scrub, right, Shanz? Wow, I can just imagine my dad coming over to help dry and put awa-

Oh gods, this is hilarious. Frederick's the one who's taken up drying and putting away. And I seem to recall nicknaming him "Daddy," but of course with snarky context. Irony seems to favor me tonight.

Night? Oh, look at that, sun's setting through the window. Damn, it's pretty. Shame I don't have a full view of it. Keep scrubbing. "Any more dishes?" Oh, look, Stahl just dum- Oh my fuck, that's a lot of plates. Sigh. Scrub away, Shanz. Scrub away. So I wonder what the deal is with that piece of quartz I managed to keep, I remember that it did a magical type thingy while I was memory-less. Ah, yes, that's right, now the details come back to me. It glows whenever I have all my memories. It was sparking so much earlier, like it was trying to establish that connection to give me all that data. So the crystal's the internet, and I'm the user computer. Heh! Didn't see that thought coming. I take a look around, as the sink is empty. No more plates? Okay, then. I put away the scrubber, rinse and dry my hands, and walk away. So what's the purpose of having my memories back now, of all times? Aw, hell, there probably isn't much of one. I mean, it's probably like the test or something. They'll probably fade in a few minutes, but until then, I should record all my thoughts... Paper, where's paper. Okay, parchment. Close enough. Pen? ... Ink and quill. Okay, sure. I'll just have to get used to the lack of proper materials. Haul off to room, and start logging this crap.

* * *

Day Three.

My name is Shanzira– as of a few nights ago– and I originate from another realm entirely, probably come through the Outrealm gate. Truthfully, I know not the full details; I was unconscious for the trip here, nor did I think to ask how I would be brought over.

This journal of sorts exists for the purpose of recording my thoughts while I remember them entirely, for I am not entirely an amnesiac, as I have claimed. There are times when I have my memories, as they have been sealed into a trinket of mine, but most of the time they remain dark, fuzzy, and hidden. This is the first moment since my arrival that I have had all recollection.

However, my memories are important in the utmost, for I know this realm's future. This is why they were sealed– if this knowledge fell into the wrong hands, or I gave it away carelessly– for I have known my tongue to slip– then it could prove to be this realm's undoing. As I was brought here for the sole purpose of changing the future for the better, I must responsibly guard this knowledge. As such, I shall only record the knowledge which feels safe at the given time of writing to impart. For example, my origins.

How I know the future is a lengthy tale, and it is... difficult, at best, to explain to a resident of this realm. It will be some time before I think of a fitting way to tell it. Suffice to say my realm is highly advanced in terms of technology, and long ago we eschewed the bow and the sword for more efficient weapons. Centuries before my time, even. Thus my lack of proficiency with any weapon. I shall attempt to take up lances and tomes, for blades on sticks are far more effective than swords, in my view; and tomes because I'm not really a physical person. (Besides, I can read the script in them. ... Barely.)

I'm running out of thoughts to record that are of any import. Do not show this log to anyone, Shanzira, for you know some people will look upon it with great suspicion (Most notably, Frederick). However, in the future, I would advise that someday you abandon your furtiveness, as you will have no choice but to bond with and depend on your friends.

Besides, they picked you up in the middle of the field and welcomed you with open arms (excepting Frederick). You ought to be nice to them and give them your trust. ... Some of it.

... Okay, maybe you can show Chrom. Damn, I hate being unable to erase my writing, it sucks, having to strike through the sentences and FUCKING QUILLS THEY SUCK BECAUSE INKWELLS.

What I would not give for a fountain pen.

End log entry.

* * *

Leave scroll on bed to dry, put away quill and ink. I sit on my bed, away from my log entry. I should devise a safer way to wear this crystal; it's a bloody miracle no one noticed it glowing. or perhaps they did, and just haven't asked. Oh, shit, I could get into some really hot water if someone asked about it while I didn't have my memories. Well, it should be fine, I have that scroll to explain things away. Well, I guess as long as I wear this ridiculously long coat– still love it, even if the markings are Grimleal!– I should be safe, it does extend past my hands.

I believe I dug around in my pockets earlier? I think the sealed pocket contains things from the other world... Yes, it does. What do I got? ... Holy shit, they let me keep my 3DS and iPhone? What the fuck? MAKE USE OF THIS, SHANZ! I move the scroll and curl up in a corner of my bed, away from the door, and crack open my 3DS while it still has power. I spend a while playing with it, and I'm careful to hide it anytime someone passes by my room. Thankfully, however, I am not interrupted. I mess around, playing the very game I'm now in– I never actually took the cartridge out– and reflect.

I should stop thinking of it as a game. This realm did save my life, in a manner of speaking. Gods, I'm starting to think like the people around here. Or maybe I'm just calm and not freaking out over every little detail, which I totally should be, since my inner fangirl can't shut the hell up. I save, close my 3DS, and place it back in the sealed pocket. How am I going to charge the thing... Thunder magic? Maybe once I learn to control it.

... I think I'm getting sleepy. I get up and change into a warm robe which I remember buying earlier that day with Lissa, or Buttons. (I'm probably going to interchange them... Or maybe switch between them, depending on whether I've my memories? I'm much better at remembering everyone's names now that I'm not an amnesiac...) I curl up in bed and pull a couple layers of blankets over me.

Mm, sleep. How I love thee...


	6. Pisces out of Water

**Author's notes: Not much happens except character development here. You can call it filler. The fun begins next chapter.**

**Crap, now I have to think of something fun to throw in. I've spread everything out, and now everything's going to be boring. This needs more substance to it.**

* * *

I really shouldn't be surprised that I wasn't the first one up.

I came close, though. Apparently the only person around here who's made it their job to get up at ungodly early hours to get stuff done is Frederick. He gave me a suspicious look (par for the course) as I walked into the pantry to scavenge for food. Then a conversation happened that went like this: He asks me why I'm up so early and comments on how I'm practically in love with sleep. I tell him that my naps keep happening because I can't sleep at night. He asks oh really, because I appeared to sleep quite restfully last night. I don't say anything for a minute because I don't actually remember going to bed last night (everything after dinner is one big blank). After that pause I tell him that I always wake up at an ungodly early hour for some dumb reason. He questions me about whether I was trained to wake up early. I squawk that I don't _know_, I have _amnesia_, for the love of the gods. Now will you just leave me alone, because you sound like my father and I'm pretty sure I didn't like him much. Or I don't like him. Amnesia throws my grammar off, I add in hastily, shut up. I swear I can hear him snickering but neither of us speaks. I grab my toast and exit with it in my mouth, end conversation.

And then I find a rather interesting piece of parchment in my room. Well, that would certainly explain why my memory was a blank. I put off eating breakfast while I puzzle over it. Well, perhaps I ought to take my own advice and show Chrom. I hide the scroll in one of the many pockets in my cloak, then I pull out a tome and puzzle over it until I'm clear on the spells in it. That eats a solid half-hour, and I find that everyone is still asleep, so I find more parchment, and I learn to draw using a feather quill and fountain ink. I suck at it! (Well, I suppose I'm better than the average untrained person.) This whole one-line no-sketch business is really doing a number on my hand, but I suppose there's only one way to learn to do this.

The product of about an hour of messing around with the ink is several doodles, a thousand notes complaining about ink, and a rough sketch of myself, standing in a timid, demure pose, holding a tome close to my chest. A rough sketch. A really rough sketch. After a while of ink flecking onto my hand, though, I just dipped a finger in and "painted" watercolor. ... And then I had to go wash my hands. Welp, epic fail at keeping your hands clean, Shanz. By that time, people are up and walking around, so I wash the ink off in a sink and wander aimlessly.

I then spend about two hours having my ass handed to me by people more physically capable than me. (Note to self, never train with Curly again.) The only person I stood a chance against was Bumblebee– _Sumia_ is her name, dammit– and even then she's still stronger than me, she only loses because she keeps tripping. I wanna see if I can help her with her tripping problem, but it just seems like more trouble than it's worth, and I feel as though she'll overcome it. (Hindsight: How wrong I was.) I actually spend about five minutes telling her that she's actually much better at this than I am, and I only won because I knew of her tripping powers and abused that disadvantage by attacking her feet and making her more liable to trip. (I wasn't lying at all when I told her that, just saying.)

And then, after I'm sweaty, exhausted, and trying to quit, Chrom comes in and asks to spar with me so he can see how he can help me improve. GODS, WHY. Here's my response: I flop backwards, onto the ground, and I say, "Where's my white flag, because I surrender." (Something important to note, I'm still holding onto my practice lance.)

He takes his training foil and points it at my neck. "Some brigands don't take prisoners, and the ones that _do_ often do unspeakably horrifying acts to them. Get up."

"Nawp, I think I'll just take my sword to the chest and make a quick, clean break with life." I wave my free hand in resignation and quickly reach it back; he just smacked it– _hard_. "OWWW! You're lucky that hand's somewhat tough." No, this is a bad time for tears, I tell myself for the fifty-seventh time that day.

"Why am I lucky? You're going to take wounds in battle that you would think cripple you, and you'll have to fight on anyways. The fact that you scraped by those two fights without serious injury is a miracle. Get up, the best way to train someone is by pushing them." He moves his foil away. That's just what I was waiting for him to do.

I move quickly, and all it requires is one arm. I swing my lance and swat his sword hand hard, intending to force him to drop his sword from recoil, and then I point it at his neck. "Dead!"

WHAM!

PAIN! PAIN! HAND! MY RIGHT HAND! I NEED THAT HAND TO DRAW! FUCKING SUNUVABITCH THAT HURTS! I hold it close to my chest, oh gods that's gonna bruise something nasty. I open my eyes– they kinda shut tight in reflex a moment ago, and I discover that he didn't even drop his sword. Didn't even flinch, from the looks of it. How'd he do that? I try to sit up and find his training foil at my neck again. "Dead," he sighs. "You meant to disarm me with that slap, right?" I nod, not trusting my voice to hit a pitch any lower than a pained squeak. "I'm used to that by now. You're not the first person to try it. Now get up."

Having gotten a slight rest (at the expense of a few blood vessels in my hand), I do so. I pick the lance up with my left hand, keeping my right inside my cloak. Hey, that gives me another idea, if I can only figure out how to manipulate my fingers without immense pain. I don't think I broke any bones, lucky me.

"Try wielding your lance with two hands," he suggests.

I shake my head. "Naw, I gotta get both my arms stronger, right? I remember you saying something like I have to push myself to get better." I'm going to regret saying that within the next ten minutes, I wager.

We have at each other, and I'm mostly defensive, dodging. Blocking won't do anything good for me– I imagine trying to stop one of Chrom's swings would be like trying to stop a log from rolling down a hill. After a while of running around, he corners me and hits my left hand– there goes my practice lance, and some blood vessels in that hand– and I take a step back. He points the foil at my neck again and says, "Dead."

"Not this time!" I chirp this, despite the pain in my godsdamn hand, and I whip out my thunder tome. I chant like the wind and give him a good zap to the chest.

"OOGH!" He crumples to one knee, and I take the chance to grab my lance again and run back over. He's gotten up by now, and he points his foil at me again. "Good move... Can't say I saw that coming. But now I know you're liable to use magic against me." I pretty much just wasted the element of surprise. Welp, I have a lance in hand now, at least. I should've used the magic on him before I got disarmed. I've got the tome open to a page in my left hand, and the lance in my right. I think this is how I will fight on the battlefield.

Chrom still kicks my ass.

Half an hour later, I stumble back inside, feeling delirious from so much ass-kicking. Buttons sees me, notices I'm black and blue and red all over, and waves her staff over me. Good old Buttons. I love you. I hug her for that and go, "I'm not dead after all... Whee..." and all goes black.

* * *

I wake up an hour later, because apparently it turns out I feel asleep. Or at least, I sure feel like I just woke up from a nap. Hands are all sticky and sweaty. Where am I? Oh, on my bed. I get up, whoooaaaa, where's my feeling? I spend half a minute trying not to faint due to what I assume to be low blood pressure. Well, with all the internal bleeding I just suffered, I suppose LBP is to be expected. Damn. That might be what KO'd me earlier. Exit room, eat lunch with the rest of the Shepherds.

"So how old are you?" Asks a redheaded kid. Oh, Shortie. He just sat down next to me, and I think he's noticed my height and apparent youth.

I mull that question over. "Not sure. And didn't anyone ever tell you never to ask a woman her age?" Smirk.

"No, I–I didn't mean to be rude... I just..."

"I'm just kidding you. I'm eighteen. I think. I could be wrong, I am an amnesiac, after all. It's the number that came to mind. And you?"

"Wow, you have two years on me!" He sighs. "You look younger. And I figured, since you're so short..."

My smirk widens. "Never judge a book by its cover, Shortie. It's fine, though, it means I'm doing my job. I try to lower people's expectations of me, then totally wow the crap out of them later on when I actually apply myself. You're the first indication that it's working, actually. By the way, what's your name?"

"Ricken. And you said last night your name's Shanzira." He seems so unsure of himself.

"Call me Shanz!" Go from smirk to sincere smile. Gods damn it, I have a soft spot for kids. His name is Ricken, Ricken, Ricken... Do I have it? Ricken. Okay. "Or you can give me a nickname, I don't mind." His name is Ricken, don't forget. Short redheaded kid like you, his name is Ricken.

"Shanz it is!" He smiles. "I saw you training with Chrom outside, you were using magic. I guess we have three mages now!"

"Yeah, you, me, and Glasses. Right? What branch do you use?" Oh gods, I'm about to start flapping my gums nonstop.

"Wind. I saw you using thunder and..." I'll abridge it from there– in one sentence, we begin a _lengthy_ discussion of magic and how it works, and I learn a lot. We've sort of abandoned our lunches to talk at this point. I have no clue how long it takes for someone to walk up to me and point out that dishes are my chore. I mumble an oopsie before I go and get scrubbing.

Actually, it was when I started doing dishes yesterday that my memory went blank. Which reminds me! I need to show that journal log to Chrom. I hope he believes me, because I don't know if that was bullshit or not. Scrub. Wow, that's a lot of dishes. I hate dishes. Scrub. I see Chrom's on the dry-and-put-away duty. Excellent.

"Oh, I have something I need to show you after we finish with this." Tone: Conversational. Scrub.

"What is it?" Curious. He puts away a stack of plates, and I put another one in the dish drain for him to work on. Scrub.

"Something I found this morning. You'll want to see it, and before you do, you should know that I was going to hide this, until I read a part of it that told me I'd better show you." Scrub. "It's interesting, to say the least. I personally think I'm nuts." Two more plates into the dish drain, two more back on the shelf. Five to go.

"Read? Did you find it on the bookshelf?"

"Nope." Scrub. Place plate in drain. "I'll explain it after you read it. Feel free to make insanity jokes at me, though. Like I said, I'm pretty sure I'm crazy."

He puts away another plate, having caught up to me. "Having witnessed you throw a match out of sheer laziness, I'm inclined to agree, but something tells me I should wait a while to write you off as insane." Scrubscrub. Two plates into the drain. Two left.

Smile. "Glad to hear you say it, Boss." Wow, this person didn't eat much. Into the drain. Scrub.

CRASH.

Gods damn it, Chrom dropped a plate. "Clean it up!" I squawk. Great, now I can't move my feet or I'll risk a wonderful shard of... Looks like fired and glazed clay to the foot. Scrub, last plate goes into the dish drain. I twist my torso around and get a view of Chrom hastily picking up the pieces and placing them on a counter. "Since you're busy, I'll dry the plates." I extend my hand for the rag he was using to dry.

"Yeah," and he hands it over without even pausing. "Don't mention this, please? It's why I've never done the dishes myself. ... I usually break them."

Wipe. Put away. Wipe that smile off your face, Shanz. "Yeah, you must be nearly as clumsy as Bumblebee. Or maybe you're just careless?" I shrug and put another plate up. "I did see a pile of broken training dummies, I can only assume that's your past work."

I can just see the cringe on his face. "Yeah." He's picked up the rest of the pieces. "So what did you want to show me?"

I make an "O" face and gingerly grasp his wrist. "Thisaway." I lead him to my room, then whip out the journal I can only assume I wrote. "Read this." He takes it, and as he reads, I say, "I should mention that last night's events after I started doing dishes are a complete blank to me. I mean, I scrubbed 'em, then I blacked out and the next thing I know, it's extremely early morning, and I'm feeling sick to my stomach."

"This would seem to explain why." He appears to be midway through it. "You're sure this is your handwriting?"

Nod. "Sure as sure can be. Here." I lift up the parchment on which I drew that morning, to show him my notes as a comparison. "This is my handwriting as of this morning, along with some, um, sketches. Don't mind the sketch-work, I doubt it's my best."

He considers it, not saying anything while thinking it over. After about several minutes of nerve-wracking silence and re-reading, he speaks up. "So you know the future whenever you have your memories."

"You'd have to ask me when I have them to get that full answer, but it does appear that way. It might be a while, since it took three days for them to surface." I notice I've scrunched myself up into a tiny little ball of me due to nerves. ... Wow. I haven't even noticed how nervous I've been all day.

"This might come in handy. I'm not going to mention it to anyone, nor will I believe or disbelieve you yet. I'll reserve my judgement for a time when you've had the chance to prove yourself." His eyes are narrowed thoughtfully, and I just nod a little. I'm not sure what's going to happen, I just hope I don't fuck it up.

* * *

With the exception of this little heart-to-heart, the rest of the week proceeds much the same way– wake up feeling sore as hell, eat, study and draw, get the everliving crap beaten out of me, eat lunch, nap, study and draw more, eat dinner, sleep. I don't find any more journals lying around in that time, but I do stockpile on parchment, quills, and ink– I go through them like a starving man goes through food. By the day we leave for Regna Ferox, I feel I'm pretty well prepared for anything.

Well, prepared for anything except what actually happens, of course.


	7. Pain Seems to Like Me

**Author's notes: After a little while, I finally get back to updating. I'm going to overhaul a thing or two, change the fic description because I clearly wasn't thinking about how it's going to go when I wrote it. Oh, and I have a better idea of what the heck I'm doing now.**

**Warning, swearing. Shanzira will swear up a storm whenever she's in battle.**

* * *

Chapter Six - Pain Seems to like Me

I found a small note written by my memory self this morning. (I'm not really sure what to call her, really.) It gives a warning about a Risen attack, and I have no clue what it's talking about. I'll just show it to Chrom later.

Okay, I kinda forget about it for a few hours. We're marching, okay? My feet hurt like hell. I don't care how pretty the scenery is– though I could go on for hours about it– marching through it is painful. The ground is soft and uneven because there are patches of tall grass everywhere, and the sun gets in my eyes every time I look to my right, because it's still morning and the east is to my right. Oh, and despite the chilly air, I'm pretty sure the right side of my face is being seared by the sun. My only reprieve is when we walk under a tree, but we're walking in the open field, no forests or anything, for the sake of quick movement. It. Sucks.

Exasperated by these thoughts and complaints, I turn to the person on my left. "How do you handle this, Bumblebee? I think my feet are about to split along the arches..."

She smiles at me, but shyly, of course. "W-well, after a while, you just get used to it. I've been doing this for a long time, but I think you're still new to marching."

"Quite new." I wipe my brow. Didn't expect to sweat in this cold. "I really am as much of a wimp as I've made myself out to be during the past week."

Bumblebee wraps an arm around me ACK WEIGHT. "Don't worry about it. After a while, you won't even feel sore, you'll be so tired!"

... How is that a comfort?

"I gotta talk to Boss," and I slip out from under her arm. I dash rather halfheartedly to catch up with him (he's in the van, Bumblebee and I are on the left flank) and I fumble around in my pockets. "Got somethin' for ya."

"What is it?" He looks over, genuinely curious. "And how are you holding up?"

"Like an anthill in a rainstorm. Which is to say, poorly. Anyways, here!" I whip out the parchment and hand it over. "I don't know what she means by "Risen." I assume you know? She did write it for you."

Since I didn't say anything before, here's what it says:

* * *

Day Ten.

I have my memories for but a brief moment. I would use this time to write of a warning: On the northroad– quite a ways up, actually– you're going to encounter Risen. Show this to Chrom, he will understand. They shouldn't be too strong, but Vaike might forget his axe, but if he does, Miriel will find it. If they don't, then expect some other shenanigan to happen, as there's a chance my knowledge of the future may be off on the little details. I don't know how much my mere presence will change things.

Do your best not to die; they need you, Shanzira.

End log entry.

* * *

"Oh, Risen are the deathly creatures we fought last week, remember? The council gave them a name, I thought you would have learned it by now." He considers the paper seriously for a moment. "On the northroad... That's trouble, to say the least," he mumbles. "Perhaps it would be wise if we prepared for battle beforehand."

"I don't think we'll need to, I wouldn't change much about our equipment right now." There's not much _to_ change about it, anyways. "The only preparation we should make is a break. I know this complaint is to be expected from the newbie, but my feet right now feel like they're being licked by the flames of hell." Yes, the exaggeration was entirely necessary.

"You can ride in the wagon," Chrom suggests, pointing his thumb backwards.

I twist around. "We have a wagon...?" Fucking sunuvabitch, we do. And I didn't notice. Just how inattentive _am_ I?!

"Yes, because we have to store our spare weapons _some_where." I hear a chuckle, why do I hear a chuckle? Gods damn it. I'm not a tactician, I'm a laughingstock. I sigh.

"Into the wagon I go," I mumble, walking the opposite direction and hopping into the wagon's back.

Sweet, wonderful relief. I pull off my boots and massage my feet, mm... Okay, with is wonderful. I can handle stuff now. Gimme ten minutes or so, and I'll go back to marching. Grudgingly. I don't really have much of an inclination to endure torture, but I need to build up stamina somehow.

Ten minutes to myself. Well, ten minutes and... I lean forward; who's driving this thing? Oh, Vegetables. I oughta make use of this.

"So what's your name again?" I ask.

He glances back. "Oh, Shanzira! I thought you were up on the left side?"

"I was, and then I complained of foot problems. But, seriously, I can't remember your name." Kindly answer my question, Vegetables.

He chuckles at his own brain fart. "It's Stahl. So how's the marching, other than painful?"

I tilt my head to the side and twist my mouth in consideration. "Eh... Well, the company's good. That's good, at least. If I'm going to endure torture, at least I have nice people to help me, um, not die." It occurs to me that I'm really awkward when I talk. Then why do I talk so much?

He smiles and oh gods this guy has such a cute smile. His name is Stahl, remember that. His smile makes me want to hug him really tightly, because it's just that adorable. I smirk back, remembering the contagious power a good grin has.

... Why is it that half the guys here are ridiculously cute? I'm going to have a lot of fun, I think. I make a mental list of all the cute guys. I guess Chrom is cute, Frederick is... unfortunately undeniably attractive, there's Stahl being so adorable, aaand... Well, I guess Shortie might count, but he's a little young. Who else is there? I look out, but I have trouble seeing because that mop of hair on Vegetable's head is obscuring my view. Can't see anyone else. Oh well. There's Vaike, and he certainly _is_ pretty ripped, but definitely not my type. He's a bigger derp than Vegetables. Stahl. Oops, nicknames.

"I think I can march again," and with that I don my boots again, hop out of the wagon, and rejoin Bumblebee on the left flank. "By the way, I keep forgetting your name, and since you seem to be becoming my best friend, I think I'm going to need to remember it."

"Sumia. Remember? Sumia. And welcome back, I saw you in the wagon. How was your rest?" She has an adorable smile as well, but in a completely different way.

"Exquisite. It felt nice to have my feet off the ground." I stretch. "So, what do you want to talk about, Sumia?"

Her smile brightens. People like being called by their names, you see. "Well, do you like horses, Shanzira?"

I tilt my head in consideration. "They're magnificent beasts, but I could never see myself riding one." I tap my thigh. "I've got pathetic leg muscles, as I've already demonstrated today."

She chuckles. "So does everyone on their first ride. Don't worry, if you try it and keep at it, you'll get better." This conversation goes on for a pretty long time, and I learn a lot about horses– and pegasi, because Sumia apparently has a fondness for them– in this. Turns out I know more than I gave myself credit for, as well. We've just shifted the topic to what sort of magic is most ideal to use against an armored knight when we hear Chrom shout from up ahead.

"Everyone, to arms! Risen ahead!"

"Aw, shit." I've just noticed my feet really hurt again. "What say we fight together, Bumblebee?"

She hesitates. "Umm, I... I'd really just prefer to watch. I'm not too confident..."

I look her in the eyes, and she's really scared. I look ahead to the undead soldiers before us. ... Why am I not so scared? Just last week, I would've run for cover. I mean, yeah, my heart's still pounding like hell because I just _know_ I'm about to get hurt, but I'm not scared out of my wits. "Yeah, go ahead and watch. I'll just, um... Do stuff." I whip out my lance and dash up to Chrom's side.

I hear Vaike shout something like "Teach is locked and ready for actio– wait, where's my axe?!"

Sounds like that log was right. "Then keep to the rear, you dumbass, this isn't any time for idiocy!"

"My, aren't we the stern tactician?" Chrom asks, eyebrow raised. "I'd prefer to be the one to scold my own men, thanks." There's the rasp of steel– at least I _think_ his sword is steel, I could be wrong– as he unsheathes it. It's meant for the Risen, not me, mind.

Welp, he's right, I guess. Ugh. "I'll... I'll curb it in the future if it bothers you. And you don't mind if I fight with you, do you? I'd fight with Bumblebee, but she's hiding, and you're the other person I trust most."

He nods. "By all means. Whatever makes you most comfortable, as you are the rookie."

That's one way to put it, I suppose. I straighten my spine out and give orders: "Stahl, Sully, on the right flank! Frederick, on the left! Chrom and I will take the center, and Ruffles, take Buttons and stay behind us! Vaike, you already know what to do. Everyone, brace yourselves, here they come!"

I size up the first wave of Risen and thank the gods there's only five. Wait, five? EEK! I switch to my thunder tome and zap one before it gets too close, but they all crash into us and AUGH FUCK AXE, LEG, PAIN, SHIT! I see Chrom killing it from the corner of my eye but wound wound aaaaaahhhh how do I not die crap crap crap shit this is _no time_ to be crying, Shanzira, how can you not handle yourself on the _battlefield_ of all places, you're going to die and you'll have no one to blame, shit shit shit... Stand up, you fucking wimp, stand up and strike. One Risen down, Chrom's dealing with a second and he's not lookin' so good. Ouch, ouch, no don't limp, just chant and blast it there you go. It's dead. Or re-dead. Oh gods, this hurts, this hurts. Don't falter, just keep going, keep going, you can do it, oh gods pain and suffering. Where the hell is Buttons?!

"Get up, Shanzira, you can't stop now!" Yoink–OUCH! Chrom just grabbed my shoulder and pulled me straight up. Okay, standing straight, leg's still bleeding from an axe wound but I think I can walk on it, test it out, okay I can walk. Face? Straight enough. How's the front?

Well, it looks like we dispatched one wave of Risen. Now we just have fifteen more zombies to go.

Fuck.

Okay, new plan. "Change formation! Frederick, on the van; Stahl, Sully, on either side of him; Chrom, you go over there on Stahl's side while I fight by Sully. Everyone, move! And Buttons, where the hell are you, we have wounds that need treating!"

"Don't forget the Vaike!" I twist around, I thought Vaike was weaponle– okay where did that axe come from?! And... Is that Glasses? Ah, I see. I nod my head. Good, now I can change my plan up a little.

"Looks like you're armed now. Good, don't lose your axe again! Chrom, over here with me, Vaike's taking your place. Got it, Vaike? You're over there with Stahl! Glasses–"

"Hem–hem," Glasses says with this demure pose of her hand over her mouth. Oh gods, why do I hate the way that cough sounds? "My name is Miriel."

"Er, Miriel, then, you're fighting behind the vanguard, with Ruffles. Kill 'em with magic, since it attacks long-range. And hurry, the next wave is almost upo–"

Did I say "almost"? I meant "already".

Thank the gods I moved Frederick to the front of our little inverse V formation, he can take this abuse because he's wearing all that armor. Why the hell did I put myself at the fore, anyways? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Oh, wait, I should explain how can I afford to think clearly right now. I'm actually being ignored compared to everyone else. That's right, I'm like Voidy... Whose name I'm pretty sure I never managed to catch. Well, I guess I'm not _as_ good at this as Voidy, but compared to the average pers– WHOA THERE ZOMBIE TO KILL, ZAP. Ouch, wound still hurts. Chrom finished off the zombie I fried. Good, looks like this is actually working. We're almost routing them! Just a handful are left, which means we can go on the offensive.

Before I open my mouth to give orders, Chrom stuffs a vial of some sort into my hand. "Wha–"

"That's a vulnerary, drink it down and it should heal you. Mostly. It's not a cure-all, but it should help your wound. I noticed it got in the way." Gee, thanks... Down the ha–AACK OH GODS THIS TASTES LIKE SHIT. Swallow. Tears in eyes from shitty flavor. Oh gods, that was disgusting. I think I just drank tar. But at least my leg hurts less now.

Glance back at the Risen, the few left are coming at us from different directions. Thankfully, they're few, as I said before, so I inhale and belt out commands:

"Everyone, pair up and finish them off! Buttons, seriously, I need a heal staff right now! Before, you know, I bleed to dea–" HAND GRABBED BACK OF SHIRT HOISTED IN AIR WHAT'S GOING ON SITTING ON HORSEBACK? Some guy just grabbed me off the field and yoinked me onto his horse! Who's this douchebag? ... Seriously, who is this guy? He won't let go– OH MY GODS. I'm being kidnapped.

Well, fight, you idiot! I try to read a spell from my Thunder book, but this guy puts one thickly gloved hand over my mouth. Swat his hand– Ouch, what the hell, armor? Shit, he won't let go, I'm screwed, I'm screwed, I can't open my mouth and I must scream, help, help, help!

I pant and try to calm myself. I'm exhausted, I'm wounded, I'm being kidnapped, and I'm probably going to die.

I'm gagged, and I must scream.

HELP!

* * *

**And this is the surprise I mentioned earlier. This will come in handy much later. Muuuuch later... Kindly review, and tell me how I can get better at this...**


	8. Outclassed

**Author's notes: I'm thinking of discontinuing this fic. Honestly, for a SI, this is a piece of crap, and I ****_know_**** I can do better. Besides, I have an idea for a better SI, with a different premise. I'm pretty sure that the idea behind Recollection ****_could_**** turn out to be good, but it'd have to be approached in a different way than I'm going about it. Besides, my mental state's changed since I started this, and it's getting hard to write from the point of view of a pessimist. Besides... The premise for the new SI is going to be more fun :D**

**Back to your regularly scheduled programming. This is a short chapter. I tried to lengthen it, but I couldn't find a way to. The chapter just came to a natural end and... I keep thinking I should have just kept this as part of the previous chapter. OH WELL. Since this may possibly be the last chapter I post of this, lemme know what you (the readers) think of me starting afresh.**

* * *

Ouch, tree branches nicking me, this is a rough ride, crap crap crap! Ouch! Side met ground hard, looks like he's tossed me to the ground and stopped his horse whoa that's a mean-looking lance. Where's my tome? Several feet away. Shit, shit, shit. Sidestep closer to it. Glance at surroundings.

Looks like he rode into a small patch of woods; it's all dark and shady. The trees are really tightly clumped together but for this, uhh, twelve yard or so patch of shady soil, but it's still covered in shrubbery. Having trouble placing my feet as I sidestep. He's got the advantage; his horse is doing the thinking for him in terms of foot placement.

"Are you ready to die, murderer?" asks my kidnapper. His voice... did it tremble?

"Uhhmm." I don't really know what to say to this. Yeah, it's a cliche line and all, but I don't have a stock witty reply. "Murderer?" Yes, Shanz, buy time. Buy time while you're trying not to freak the flip out and panic.

He points his lance at me, and I'm reminded how nasty it looks. "You. You murdered... No, I shouldn't tell you. There's no point. I should just get this over with." He's not very good at this, is he?

I take a step back instinctively, trying not to stumble over the shrubberies on the ground. "Who did I murder? Because I have no recollection of it! I'm not a killer! I hardly have the will to survive, myself!" I think I know what gambit to use on this guy... Pray it works...

"All the easier." His horse approaches to compensate for my retreating. The guy's voice is still shaking, though. "It's much easier to kill a woman who hardly wants to live." I think he said that more to himself than to me.

"What are you waiting for, then? Do it! Do it! AAUUUUGGGHHH!" That scream? Yeah, that's not panic, or at least panic's not what I was going for. That's frustration, because I remember what someone told me to do if I needed help. "Hurry up, then, you pathetic dog! Do it! Do.. it..." I hunch over slightly, letting my own voice shake with false tears.

And it is this pitiful sight that stays the man's hand. He lowers his lance. "Perhaps that would only drop me to her level," I hear him whisper. His eyes float towards the ground. I better acknowledge his appearance: Tall, with gray eyes and greenish-brown hair. But he appears to be a stick, constitution-wise. His armor is pretty big for him.

"No," he reaffirms. "If they are to survive, then this must be done." If who is to survive? Huh? I can assure you, I have no intention of killing anyone important... Once again, the point of his lance sees airtime. I take another step back, and I'm stuck against a tree now. Wait. I'm not entirely unarmed, I forgot... I take out my own lance.

"I guess pity didn't work," I mumble. "If you want my head, you'll have to work for it!" Up and into ready position. Come at me, sucker!

His horse darts forward, and he thrusts his lance forward, aiming for my neck. _Idiot_ is what I think as I duck to the side, letting him bury his blade in the tree I was backed against. I jump up to slash at him and get a good nick in on his thigh, but it's not enough to really affect him, what with that damn oversized armor. He shouts in pain and removes his weapon. All I have to do is buy time. You'll be fine, Shanzira. You'll make it out of this scrape. Oh gods, stay calm and tell your heart to slow down. He's coming at me again, and with a sweeping slash, I don't think I can dodge this one. This might be the end–

**_BWOOSH!_**

Flames? Arcfire? Wait, it's Hoodie! Hoodie to the rescue! Oh, thank the gods! Looks like that fire she conjured didn't kill my kidnapper, just knocked him off his horse and burned him. Whoa, that looks nasty. He groans in pain, and I think I hear a threat to kill me later.

"What are you standing there for?" What-what? Oh, right, escape. "Let's go!" She tosses me my tome– looks like she picked it up for me– and grabs me by the wrist. We run. Or rather, she runs and I just try to pick up my feet and follow. Damn, I'm slow. Gods my feet hurt, I'm getting tired, how can she run like this? Augh... I can't. I have to stop.

My face plows into the dirt after I drop to the ground. Ow. I spit out grass, we seem to be in an open field again.

"What are you doing? Do you want to die, Shanzira?" She almost sounds panicked. "Get up and run! Or he'll– Oh, gods, you're wounded." I hear her footsteps approaching, and she turns me over onto my back. I can almost make out her face under that hood. Really pale skin. Dark hair. Ugh. "I've never been much for staves, but I think this will work." She pulls out a blue vial of some kind and opens my mouth WHUH. THAT TASTES HORRIBLE. YUCK! "Don't spit it out, this will heal you! Just be a big girl and swallow it down." Reluctantly, I do so. Where's water, I need to wash that out. Hey... I think the pain's going away. I lift up my head. Yeah, my wounds are closing! With a sigh of relief, I lower my head back into Hoodie's lap. My heart still won't slow down, but at least I'm not hurt anymore.

She lightly slaps my side. "Get up. Break time's over. I have to get you back to your friends." AUGH THAT TICKLES DON'T TOUCH MY UNDERARMS! (What just happened is this: She tried to lift me up by my armpits, and I'm really ticklish there. Like, extremely ticklish. So my arms are now glued to my side and her hands are stuck. But at least it doesn't tickle anymore.) "Let go! Look, your friends are almost in sight, I have go now!" She puts me down, and I release her hands. I turn around and watch as she runs.

I hear a really quick crunch–crunch of grass folding under boots AUGH I'VE BEEN TACKLED MY SIDE OUCH BRUISE. Hello there, ground. You're giving me grass stains, fuck.

"Shanzira, you're okay!" Oh gods, that high-pitched squeal is Bumblebee. Sounds like she was really worried sick.

"Yeah," and this is just barely choked out because I _can't freaking breathe_. "S'mia... Air... Need air..."

"Oh, right, I'm sorry." A great weight is lifted off me and _aaahhh_ I can fill my lungs again. Bumblebee extends a hand to help me up, and I take it. "I didn't mean to crush you, I'm so sorry..."

"It's fine, it's fine, just... You worried? I didn't think anyone really cared that much." I'm flattered and scared. I should probably put my trust in her. But I'm really scared to trust people, and... Oh, hell. She worried enough to run over here, knowing that she's a living tripping hazard, and tackle-glomp me. She cares.

"Yeah! You're really nice to me and even if you _are_ better than me, you're still technically junior to me. Er..." Hands over her mouth in hesitation. "Was that mean...?"

Chuckle. "No, it was fine. A little bluntness could serve some good in the world. Thanks, Bumblebee. Er, Sumia. Which do you want me to call you?"

She smiles and opens her mouth to answer, but she's interrupted by Chrom and Frederick running and riding up to us, respectively. When she hears them, she steps aside politely, standing at my side. Like a friend.

This doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"Are you all right, Shanzira?" Chrom asks. It seems to me he's asking me that quite frequently. I need to stop being the object of so much worry.

Answer his question, Shanz. I nod my head. "A little scraped, but nothing that someone's healing potion didn't fix. Whatever it was. Tasted worse than that vulnerary you gave me earlier. Remember that hooded person who helped us the first time we battled Risen? Yeah, she saved me. And ran off, looks like." I don't mention the fact that I'm scared as all hell. It was just so easy for that guy to simply grab me off the battlefield. I should stick closer to a buddy at all times.

"Well, I suppose we should be grateful for that mysterious mage, whoever she is. I assume you can walk, Shanzira? Then come on back. We've still got marching to do." Chrom turns around and waves for us to follow. Sumia and I exchange glances, nod, and do so.

We spend the rest of the day talking nonstop as we march, during which I confide in my new best friend what happened.

"... And then he got roasted off his horse by what looked like an Arcfire, and I saw he wasn't dead, just burned and stunned, and then Hoodie grabbed me and ran off with me." What am I missing? Oh, she doesn't know who Hoodie is. "Hoodie's this girl, woman, not sure which, who saved the bunch of us, that is, Chrom, Frederick, Sully, Ruffles, Buttons, and me when we were about to be butchered by Risen about a week ago. She managed to get them all with one blast of Arcfire, it was amazing."

"She sounds like a very talented mage. But, um, I have a few questions about your kidnapper. Did you notice anything about his posture or voice or anything?" Mere curiosity.

I hum thoughtfully. "He was hesitant. Like he was scared to kill me. He couldn't seem to decide whether he wanted to actually do it or not, so I played that up, I went for the pity thing. It almost worked, too, but in the end, I had to have my ass bailed out." The last part is punctuated with a sigh. "I have got to get better at this. You guys always keep having to save my bacon and you spend more time than you should worrying about me. It's irritating; the next thing I know I'll have to have an escort wherever I go."

She wraps an arm around my torso, which tickles, but I try not to protest. "I think you'll be fine. I was worried because you're my friend, and the reason I followed you wasn't really to help– I don't think I could have, really– but just to see if you were okay."

"Waauggh, there goes my balance, hee hee. I'm kidding, I'm fine, I can walk like this. But you know, that might not have been very smart. What if you'd chanced upon that scene and gotten killed, too?"

"Oh..." Oh, shit, oops, I scared her, crap. Why's her personality gotta be so delicate? "Well, we were all fine in the end, right? All's well that ends well. Why don't we talk about something else?"

And there's the telltale sentence, I definitely scared her. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"Umm..." That umm actually goes on for a lot more m's, but it would waste space to write them all. After about a minute of this hum, she suggests the topic of pies, and that launches a whole new conversation. The rest of the day is highlighted by puns, the filler to this delicious conversational pie.

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**So what'd y'all think? Please leave a review, thank you. If you think this oughta be rewritten, say so; if not, then again, say so. I intend to step up my game after this either way.**


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